Sub Rosa: Panic at the Disco Saga
by kayura sanada
Summary: 4th. Caribol's making its move, and Duo and Wufei are facing the threat without Heero? Where could he be? And if they find him, what exactly will they see? 1x2, 3x4, 5xS Sequel up!
1. I Write Sins Not Tragedies

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!!!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter One

I Write Sins Not Tragedies

* * *

I had healed.

Or, more to say, my body had healed. Time did that. The doctor, in making several house calls, had eventually called me almost completely healed and took out my stitches. All of them. And then there was physiotherapy, in which my therapist remarked I excelled. And now we had returned.

Heero had never come.

I held out no hope. I was too realistic. Heero had promised to come back. He'd sworn. The man never broke a promise... unless he just plain couldn't keep it.

I didn't allow myself time to grieve.

Wufei and I never spoke about it, a taboo subject. Here in front of Une, the fury and anger swirled in an even hotter vortex; here was the woman who had negated my warnings. The woman who had sent him out there. After I killed every operative in Caribol, I would come back for her. I thought I saw that knowledge reflected in her eyes; she seemed to know I would kill her. She also seemed fairly unperturbed by the idea. Wufei, beside me, was as still as me.

"You know the situation," she said quietly. She did not look at me. "As of right now, we have only you two. Barton heard of the situation and relocated Winner and himself to parts unspecified." Meaning she knew where they were. "And we have Caribol to face. Yuy is... MIA."

My fists clenched.

"It's been almost two months," Une continued doggedly, "since we last had contact with him. We must consider this to be a sign of his-"

I growled, and she silenced herself.

"So now we have an organization to take down with only two men."

"We'll do it." They were the first words I'd spoken in days.

She seemed to understand exactly what I meant by that, too. _We'll do it _– we'll kill them all. Or at least I would.

"Evidence would be nice," she put in blandly.

"Fuck your evidence," I hissed. I trembled in my efforts not to go after her; Preventors seemed to be allowed to go crazy when fighting baddies. I would be allowed to kill. I wouldn't necessarily be a 'murderer' until I killed her. I would wait.

Une didn't bother retorting. "Then get some rest. We'll begin the attack in four hours."

No planning; she knew I wouldn't stay for it. Rest? Because it was needed, I could do that much. I needed to be in top shape. I needed to be sure I could kill every single one of them. I knew that. I'd known that since those first few days in which I foolishly tried to believe Heero was just taking a bit too long. Back before I gave it up for reality.

I walked out of Une's office and toward a small room adjacent to it. Inside were two couches. It was a room I hadn't known of until Heero had carried me into it.

I hesitated before opening the door, then simply laid down out side Une's office. Better not to risk it.

Wufei didn't say anything, used to my antics by now. He simply opened the door and retreated inside.

Sleeping was the hardest of all necessities to take care of. Eating could be done in a minute, not allowing any time to think. Same with going to the bathroom – you wait long enough, you're in and out in a minute, two tops. But sleep wasn't so simple. You needed to take time out of your day to do it. And time meant reflection. My dreams were too cruel to allow me solace in sleep. And I had to keep returning to them if I was going to destroy Caribol.

Lying down here, I could see flashes of images I never allowed my mind to show me. A face I couldn't bear to see. Hands, warmth. His scent. I shut myself down and felt ghost arms slip around me.

My dreams were the same, down even to the intangibility of his perfect skin.

* * *

Four hours later, we were ready.

Une had informed us of the basics as we suited up. Caribol's top operatives have stayed hidden these past two months, though it seemed something important had occurred recently; guard had risen tremendously, then slackened considerably. Une assumed a breakthrough had come in their research, meaning a better and stronger cyborg. I wasn't concerned. The only thing that would stop me from killing them all was death... which awaited me at the end, anyway.

Heero not loving me I could have handled. Heero killing me himself would have been absolutely fine. But a world without Heero... that was blasphemy.

I checked the magazines on my guns, double-checked the blades of my hunting knives, carefully touched my belt of grenades, checking each for their pin, making sure they were each solidly in place. Wufei, beside me, was doing the same.

"Come back alive," she ordered before we left. It was an order, I noted with rage, she neglected to give Heero.

We said nothing as we left.

The drive was equally silent. Wufei, too, seemed to need silence in order to deal with his grief in his own way. It was easy to be with him, suffering with someone who understood its true form. Knowing that he blamed himself, seeing himself as a failure as a partner, helped. Because I was a failure, too, only much worse. I'd stolen Heero's back-up. I'd stolen his concentration. And I'd given him nothing as recompense. It was also my fault he was dead. That was another reason why I had to die.

I mindlessly cleaned my pistol as Wufei drove. We didn't turn on the radio.

We parked three blocks away from Caribol's HQ, which hadn't been changed. I wasn't surprised by this; killing a Gundam pilot was probably seen as a sign of their power. They would stay as a sign of defiance. That only made it easier for us. In fifteen minutes, I had all the passwords. It was simple, disgustingly simple, since I'd already done it once before. A lifetime ago. And then we were out of the car and moving.

The night was cool and bright, the sky clear, the moon clear and half-full. Our footsteps crunched the grass underneath us, noisy in the stillness. Still we knew no one but ourselves could hear them. We held our pistols at the ready. I felt the secure weight of my knives weighing down each arm. They felt like extensions; even my time of recuperation hadn't been able to steal the soldier from me.

But it was strange. I couldn't feel Shinigami inside me anywhere.

Wufei and I split up after quietly testing the communication mikes on our suits. I went to the nearer side, Wufei making sure I didn't use of my energy too much, since I was still recovering. Her went to the far side. We didn't say good-bye.

I slipped past the two guards, slicing their throats to keep the silence. Then I grabbed their ID's and slipped straight inside the building.

While it was a simple-looking business building, all sleek and shiny on the outside, it looked like a morgue. Or maybe a museum. There were tables and a linoleum floor, an open hall big enough to be a library, and fake flowers on practically every surface. This was the first floor. The floor of lies. The floor used to deceive. Duo ran up to the guard by the door and slit his throat before he could call for help. After cleaning his knife on the man's clothes, he was moving again.

He almost made it to the first floor when the alarm went off. Wufei must have purposefully tripped the switch to serve as a distraction. Duo knew it was a strategic tactic, one that ensured that he would get further up with less resistance. But he couldn't help but think that Wufei had tripped it so quickly because he didn't want Duo to be the one to deal with the enemy encounter.

He brushed it off and continued up. The second floor was a bit darker than the first floor; no flowers or tables broke up the endless white linoleum. Footsteps pounded from around the corner. I pulled out my pistol.

Two men turned and stopped still when they saw me. "Intruder!" one cried. I shot him first. The other decided it was better to react more violently than just shouting and tried to pull out his gun. I shot him down, too.

Shouts came then from other men close enough to hear the gunshots. I walked to the corner and waited for them. They came in two's and three's, each ready to fire. I cleaned out my pistol and half a round of my semi taking them all down. I saved my grenades for later, keeping a fairly low profile. When there was a break, I reloaded my pistol again.

It took about a half and hour to move from that hallway, and when I finally did the perfectly white linoleum floor was littered with bodies and blood. I stepped over it all, careful to keep my shoes clean, and moved on.

It would be impossible to explain what had happened those two months ago. I remembered a tearing inside, one I thought I could hear physically. I remember thinking the world had ended, and my horror that it actually had not. That the sun could actually continue to rise and set without my own sun leading it. I remember refusing to cry, because crying never helped dick. And I remember... I remember planning.

After that, the world began to fade in and out in strange intervals. I saw Wufei, his eyes hollow. I saw my doctor, whose name I'd never cared to learn, coming and going. His arrivals meant I was getting closer to my goal. To the end of my plans. I would hear the man's instructions, and I would follow them. The rest of the time I exercised, sat, or just... existed. Awake, not trying to get to sleep, I could concentrate solely on not thinking. It was hard at first, but I got better at it. I'd had time.

Now I walked down these halls, killing more and more people, and the sounds of screaming and shouting and gunfire just didn't enter my mind much at all. It was such a switch, since I'd always blasted rock music and jammed to it, screaming the lyrics, when I'd had Deathscythe. I hadn't listened to a song in weeks.

The third floor was the same as the second, white and large and empty. But then I was proven wrong on the latter as three men stepped forward. Two seemed normal, but one looked a bit odd; I figured I was looking at a cyborg, one made in the earlier stages of discovery. His right arm seemed thick and twisted; it hid inside an equally twisted coat, one with one sleeve too long for the arm and the other so short it showed the elbow. The man's head was tilted at an odd angle.

"Duo," Wufei's voice hissed from the communication device, "do you need back-up?"

"No," I answered calmly. The enemy pulled out their own weapons. I noted dimly that the odd man pulled out his arm, which held nothing. It was its own weapon. "Take care of yourself."

"Roger that."

The silence lasted less than a millisecond; the cyborg let loose with his personal gun. I knew the trajectory of the weapon. I knew what I needed to do to escape his assault. I did it. I didn't let myself think about it.

The two others were not wholly normal, but they only had speed on their side. They attempted to track me down as I evaded. They were all early samples, I could tell. Their bodies would twitch at odd moments, and they would stumble for no reason. The fast ones, too, had legs that did not wuite match the rest of their bodies. Thick arms swung wildly by their sides.

I put them all out of their misery.

I could see how I did it – I led the fast ones to one side of the room as the shooter followed my movements, and I had them both chase me to the far corner. One went in front of the other, and I shot the closest. The next, in an effort to dodge my attack, stepped into his comrades' instead. When he stopped, too little too late, I took him down, too. After they were down, it was a simple job to make sure they were all dead.

The third floor was clear otherwise. I could hear the sounds of gunfire below me and knew that Wufei was busy below. I followed the sound for a moment, catching where it was loudest below me. "Head drop," I murmured into the mike, and took out a grenade. I walked away from the spot and tossed the grenade over. When it exploded, it dropped the floor and plaster walls down onto those roar was satisfying. It told me more were dead.

"Thanks," Wufei whispered. I didn't respond. The stairs were to my left.

I had just stepped on the stairs when I heard an elevator begin to run. I left the stairs, moving hurriedly, and wrenched open the elevator doors. When the elevator car dropped below me, I tossed my second grenade on top. I hopped away from the shaft then and let the grenade do my work for me. The screams fell to the ground floor and halted abruptly.

It was a basic rule: never use the elevators. I headed up the stairs.

"Maxwell. Third floor."

"Stairway," I murmured back, letting him know my own location in return. "Fourth floor. Any problems?"

"No. They're keeping the cyborgs to a bare minimum."

"Most likely for a larger defensive later," I surmised blandly.

"Most likely," Wufei agreed.

"The strongest will protect the leaders," I murmured, not caring in the least. No matter how many there were, they would all die.

"Yes. We'll have to break them up, take them one at a time. We may have to return later, Duo."

"Not yet," I growled.

"No. We'll go as far as we can."

We stopped communicating after that, content with what was said. Yes, it was definitely best to grieve with someone like Wufei, whose grief could be understood. I was a solace to him, as I was grieving worse than he, and he was a solace to me, as he, too, felt the emptiness of the world without Heero. We both needed each other to continue.

The fourth floor was completely clear, no one in sight. But I could see that this was where everything changed; the walls were metal now, not the clear hospital-white of the lower floors. I remembered clearly that this was the floor with all of the laboratories and storage rooms.

It was odd, wondering if my footsteps were echoing Heero's, wondering if he'd moved in this exaact formation. I keyed in the password to the storage room he'd entered and thought vaguely of him standing here doing the same thing.

The door opened, and finally I got to see what Heero had those months ago. Inside were tubes and shelves of bodies. I'd been right when I'd thought about a science fiction movie, but everything was turning into science fiction around here. My life might as well be a book.

The tubes held deformed humans, all right. I remembered seeing an old Japanese show where two kids tried to bring their mother back to life through alchemy. I was reminded horrifically of the result of their attempt. Skin peeled away from the bodies to float like thin, white sheets in their individual tubes. Organs floated, too, where they would rest if the skin and nerves and blood vessels had all taken their places, as well.

Some were in better shape; they were obviously human, fairly well-formed. Three were better off than the rest, or at least I made that assumption, since they were in cages and eying me greedily. I suspected they were in cages only now, after Heero had needed to fight them off. I didn't think any more about that.

I tossed in two grenades and slid the door shut, determinedly destroying the memories along with the room.

Then I stood there for a moment. My eyes turned of their own accord, following blueprints I had seen an eternity ago. I had led Heero to that laboratory. I had led him into a room that had ended up almost being his... but I had to shake that thought off, as well. There were other enemies there, ones that had begun to awaken while Heero had still been inside. Were they still there? If so, I could kill them all in no time. Less to worry about.

More, I had to see the room. See one of the last places – perhaps _the _last place – Heero had ever stood.

I was only half-aware of my surroundings as I walked. If an enemy had showed up at that moment, they would have been able to shoot me dead. But of course no one was here; I'd already verified that. Or at least it felt like no one dangerous was here, a feeling I associated with the creatures locked up in their respective prisons.

The laboratory was easy to find, trapped as it was in my memories. I entered this password, as well, and waited as the door silently whooshed open.

_Click._

The unmistakable sound of a safety being pulled off hit my ears before the door fully opened. I had hardly pulled my pistol in front of me before I registered what awaited me inside.

My hands fell to my sides. "H... Heero?"


	2. Do You Know What I'm Seeing?

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

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Sub Rosa

Chapter Two

Do You Know What I'm Seeing?

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His eyes were empty and cold, but he smiled warmly at me. "Duo. I knew you would come here."

I stepped forward, ignoring the gun he had trained on my forehead. "Is it really you?" I whispered.

It was his face, his voice, his eyes. Still he seemed like something I'd created from my mind; those eyes didn't match that smile of his. "Of course it is."

My legs were unsteady when I forced them to move forward again. "Heero-"

"Stop right there, Duo Maxwell."

I stopped dead. Those had been Heero's lips that had moved, and yet... "Heero?"

"They want you, as well."

Heero didn't talk to me like that – like I was an enemy. It hit me, finally, that Heero's arm had never moved, that his hand was still tightly clasping that gun of his. That he was not making any attempt to come to me.

"Heero, what happened?" I stepped forward, hands out. "Why didn't you ever come back? Why did you stay here without telling anyone?"

"You are no longer my master."

I furrowed my brows. "Master?"

"Yes. I have accepted my true master. I am no longer yours."

"Heero, I don't-"

I felt a presence behind me and turned, gun out. A skinny, fairly short man stood, perfectly at ease, behind me. He placed a hand on his hip and cocked his hip to the side. "Quite simply, boy, he's mine now."

Fury surged in me. His?! Heero was no one's! "The _hell_-"

But Heero's strong arms wrapped around me, grabbing my gun and tossing it. A ricochet bullet slammed into the far wall as Heero's warm, hard hands grabbed my wrists and pulled my arms behind me.

I turned to him, shocked. "Heero, what the hell are you doing?!" I pulled forward, but those steel arms didn't let me go.

"Come, Duo Maxwell, don't be so slow." The man walked toward me as if two Gundam pilots weren't right fucking there in front of him, smirking widely with thin lips and a long, giraffe-like neck. "Yuy was captured nearly two months ago."

"So what?!" I snapped amidst my struggles, but as soon as I did my brain clicked the pieces together. I sagged hollowly into Heero's hold. My eyes glazed. "You mean he..."

"That's right," Giraffe Neck gloated. "He's one of mine now."

I stared at those big bug eyes behind those goggle glasses, at that thin-lipped smile, and snarled. "He's not yours."

The man had the audacity to laugh. "Of course he is. And now-"

"One moment." Heero stopped the man's monologue, and I felt a surreal surge of hope. Heero's hand dug into my collar and ripped out the mike. I looked at him in horror. "The other is listening."

The other?! "Heero!" I snapped. "That 'other' is your partner!"

Heero tore the wire into pieces and dropped them all to the floor. "I have no partner."

My heart skittered in pain. Was he saying he had no partner like in battle, or was he saying that I wasn't...? "Heero," I breathed, wholly disbelieving. This couldn't be real. Heero wouldn't... he would sooner die than help the enemy. He wouldn't...

My hands shook.

"Bring him closer," the man ordered Heero. It wasn't necessary; it would be a thousand times easier for Giraffe Neck to walk forward. I clenched my teeth. He was showing off the power he had over Heero.

And he _did _have that power. Heero pushed me forward, moving steadily as if my heels weren't dug into the ground. I seethed and glared at the man before me. My arms were tight bands within the manacles of Heero's fists. Heero said nothing.

The man came a half-step closer, big eyes glittering, getting right up in my face. "He would do well," the man said. I wanted to rip those sneering lips off his face. "A nice piece to my collection."

Collection?! I snapped forward, ready to devour. But Heero's arms didn't budge, not an inch, that steel grip holding me where I was. Still, despite that, the man quickly jumped away and cowered behind one of his hands. This man... this man was far too weak to have taken down Heero. There was no way he could have! Heero _wasn't_ this man's puppet! Heero would _never_...

My chest heaved with every rapid breath. My lungs screamed. It wasn't possible. This... this _roach_ couldn't take down a wolf like Heero. There was no way. Heero was...

When the man saw my efforts were futile, he smirked again and came back in front of me. I knew what he would do before he even raised his hand. It was so clichéd, so expected – I hardly felt it when he slapped me, but I was deadly aware of the degradation of status. And worse, Heero just stood there and let him do it. He didn't even react. At all.

Utter panic seized my chest. Was it true? Had Heero _really_ been changed? Was he... was he not my Heero anymore? Was he practically a living corpse, dancing to my enemy's tune? Was he no longer... was he no longer the man I loved? Was he... would I... have to kill him? With my own hands?

"Take him down to the laboratory, my dear little Heero," the man ordered, snapping me from my horror. I surged forward again, furious. Dear? Little? The hell!

I tried for surprise, pulling my body forward, as I snapped out a kick. Heero was faster than me, always faster. He pulled me back, and my attack hardly even grazed the man. I saw his eyes flash in fear. Weak. He was weak.

"I'll kill you!" I screamed at him, still trying to lunge forward. "I'll fucking kill you!" If only Heero wasn't holding me back... if only I wasn't deadly aware of his hands on mine, restraining, hurting. If only I couldn't remember, so clearly it was physically painful, those same hands pushing back my bangs. Protecting me. This Heero, _my _Heero, the man I loved more than anything... _this _was what had become of him. Because... of me? Because I hadn't been strong enough.

And because of this man, this man in front of me with goggle glasses and muscles thinner than paper. He had the audacity to smirk at me, as sure of Heero's loyalty as I was of the sun's warmth.

If only I could reach him. Heero hadn't divested me of my weapons, being, as I was, properly held steady. If he shifted to take my weapons, I would be able to harm someone. So I still had them. I thought suddenly, viciously, of Wufei, and I wished he would show up. But of course Wufei would be fighting off the countless other clones this man had created, or had had created. What were the chances of Wufei's surviving against them all? Would he be captured as well, same as me, caught alive to be changed, as well? I thought of Heero's fate and roared in fury. I wouldn't let it happen. I wouldn't let it happen!

Heero's hands tightened then, so cruel they cut off my circulation. And he started pulling me backwards.

The man waved good-bye. "I'll see you soon, little Duo."

I screamed and pulled forward, but of course I didn't break free. Heero pulled me down the stairs one step at a time, his arms never tiring. I struggled every inch of the way. I didn't understand why I was being pulled down – the labs were on the floor we'd been on, and these floors were simply for show. But Heero pulled me past door after door. When he got to the bottom, he turned to the wall. A very blank, very concrete wall.

I pulled back my teeth. "Heero, what the hell has gotten into you? Stop this!"

He didn't seem to have heard me – classic Heero, fully in Ignore Mode. He braceleted my wrists and searched the wall for something.

"Heero!" I snapped, pulling and twisting my wrists. I could already feel bruises on my arms from his hands. He didn't answer me. "Heero!"

A small beep sounded, and out of the corner of my eyes I saw a green light flash. The wall sank into the floor.

My breath stuttered; sounds could be heard now, when before it had been deathly quiet. Screams. Screams of despair, of horror, of agony. Pleas and cries and mutterings could be heard underneath the screams.

A holding room.

"Heero," I breathed, imagining him in here, trapped. Helpless and furious... but no, he had probably been taken straight to the labs, or wherever it was that they did the operation. He would have been bumped to the top of the list. As soon as they caught Wufei, they would probably come back for me.

The Heero I knew would never allow me to be placed in here. Heero would defend me, whether I needed to be defended or not. Heero would never let...

"Heero," I started again, but I had to stop. How could I possibly reach someone who didn't exist anymore? What could I possibly say to him now? I let him lead me down into the dungeon, into the dank smell of dead flesh and human waste. No matter how strong I was, compared to Heero, it was nothing. I would forever be weaker than him. There was no sense fighting.

So he led me silently through the place, past cells absolutely reeking. The screams and pleas grew louder until finally I was surrounded by them on all sides. In the complete darkness, it was impossible to fully make out faces and forms and shapes. But the screams – the screams I could hear just fine.

Heero placed me all the way in the back, leading me one-handed and opening the cell I would be occupying, all the while keeping me trapped in his hold. He took all my guns and knives and grenades, finding mostly all without trouble. Then he pushed me into the cell and clanged the door shut. His eyes, when they matched with mine for a split second, were cold and empty. Heero's Perfect Soldier eyes? No, I'd been wrong, just a tiny bit. They were dead. Totally and completely dead.

And then he turned away from me.

"Heero, wait!"

He stopped, but he didn't turn to me. It was hard to breathe. As if I couldn't get enough air. What could I say to him? I still love you? But this wasn't the man I loved. I'll never kill you? But for Heero to be able to rest in peace, he had to... no. I couldn't promise that. Even if just the thought was torture.

"I still..." I clenched my hands into fists and just shouted at that back. "I'll always be waiting!"

He still didn't turn to look at me.

"Affirmative," he responded. "You are waiting. I will inform my master."

My heart wrenched at that last word. I couldn't stand to hear Heero call someone his master. My fury waned as quickly as it had come, making my hands fall limply by my side. "Always," I swore fervently. "Even if you're gone. Even if it can never happen... I'll wait. It's my turn... after how long I had made _you_ wait for _me_."

"Affirmative," he said again.

"This message is for you!" I snapped, fists clenching again. How could he be like this?!

"All messages for me are for my master."

_I'll kill him!_ I wanted to shout, but that would be a mistake. Heero would act to defend the man, being, as he was, the man's... puppet. There was no more choice for him.

But there was for me. I could still finish what he had started. I could take down this organization – what the _real _Heero wanted – and save both myself and Wufei. I just had to remain calm and let Heero walk away from me.

Of course it was the hardest thing for me to do.

As soon as he left, I turned to the back. There were no bones in my cell; for a place that smelled like shit, it was disturbingly clean. I turned to the cell door and smirked. Good. A sophisticated locking mechanism, marking the device within the keyhole to determine the exact shape of what was attempting to open the door. Perfect.

I was free in ten minutes.

I had to hurry; Wufei may have already been captured or killed. I had to act quickly.

The people in the cells screamed out to me, hands reaching out to try to grab me. I avoided them. I didn't have time to save anyone; I felt like shit, but I had no choice.

The tinny lights of the security keypads, no bigger than periods, led me to the door. Another five minutes and I was out.

I blanked my mind and pulled out two grenades from a secret place which I shall neglect to mention and threw them inside. At least those people wouldn't be suffering anymore.

I raced back onto the first floor, knowing an alarm would have been set off as soon as the grenades-

And the explosion was immediately heralded by alarms and those old-fashioned, always-annoying red lights. I knew I only had a short time; only a small portion of a minute before Heero – even mentally I had to pause to wince – before Heero and the other... cyborgs (here I winced again, trying to place Heero in that group within my mind) came to capture me again. I had to find Wufei.

I would not leave anyone else to be changed.

I only had one more grenade, and it wouldn't do me much. I already knew I wouldn't have the strength to harm Heero, no matter what. At least not yet. I couldn't even let myself consider it. Still, I needed to find Wufei in this maze of a place and get him out. I wondered if he'd managed to get past what I now considered the cursed fourth floor.

I found an information booth in the middle of the first floor's hallway. It hung out in a small niche, completely empty. I doubted it was ever occupied; another prop, most likely to conceal... and I hit jackpot when I hopped over the counter. I wrenched out the radio from its place underneath the countertop and put the radio over the intercom – a piece of technology I was wholly delighted to see. Then with a quick twist, the volume was jacked as high as it would go. I stuck the mike up to my mouth.

"Chang Wufei! I'll kill you if you're dead! If you can hear this and are still free, get yourself out of here, then send me a sign! If you aren't out in a minute, I'm coming to get you!"

I slammed the radio to the ground then, smashing it, and leaped back over the counter, back out of the niche in which I'd trapped myself to send Wufei the message. I laughed at my luck; above the counter was a duct. It was tiny; as an early teenager, I would have had no problem. I wasn't so small anymore; still, it was better than running through the hall, open and unarmed. If I remembered correctly, the ducts closed off on this floor alone, getting smaller and smaller until only a mouse – and a baby one at that – could fit through from the outside. I punched the thing open and jumped in, pulling myself up. I had barely pulled up my legs than footsteps sounded down the halls.

I crawled silently forward, careful not to make any noise that would inform any of my pursuers as to which direction I was heading. And still I froze when I heard him speak.

"He went up into the air ducts. Mirror my actions exactly."

And bullets began flying.

Heero. _Heero_ was shooting at me. I froze for a short second before my body moved on its own, not waiting for any of my conscious orders. I slipped to the left the first chance I had and carefully lifted the vent. After jumping down, I moved to the window.

And another explosion sounded, shaking the foundation a bit. It came from the left. Wufei had given me his sign.

"Good." A couple of guards who'd been standing outside my window ran off to investigate the area. I took the chance to slip outside and run for the closest cover – the line of bushes around the perimeter before I reached the gate. I dove into them and waited, carefully listening to the sounds of orders being given and carried out, waiting for that one voice.

"He exited here. He won't be far. Spread out and search."

And there it was: the voice I couldn't stand to hear just then. Of course Heero would be appointed leader of the enemy forces. Of course he would find me quickly. His were probably the footsteps reaching ever closer to my hiding place.

Imagining them to be his was too hard. I had to think it was the giraffe-necked bastard to be able to let my grenade fly. Bullets ripped the air right before the grenade exploded. He'd shot it in mid-air to make it go off early. That didn't mean it was Heero – just that it _most likely _was.

I used the explosion as a distraction to leap onto the gate and launch myself off of it. I rolled as I landed and sprang back up as soon as possible, but Heero – or whoever – had already recovered and was firing at me. Thank God, thank God, it wasn't him; I'd be dead if it had been him. Even on the brink of death, Heero would hit his target. Whoever that was, it wasn't him. My heart fluttered in relief.

I saw Wufei running towards me then, safely in the cover of the neighboring parking lot. He launched a grenade as he ran, covering me. I tensed for the explosion, used it to throw me forward, into the first nearby line of cars. I hopped over one and landed next to Wufei. "I gave 'em more guns," I gasped, and took the chance to catch my breath.

"Are you all right?" he asked, completely ignoring my stupid comment.

"Yeah. I'm fine."

"Your side?"

"Fine."

"Good. Then we're leaving for now."

I just grunted. "That would be for the best."

Wufei threw three grenades, one in each direction from us – east, west, south. A couple screams showed the intelligence in doing so. "Let's go."

I let him lead me away from Caribol HQ without argument. Let him lead me away from Heero... or what was left of him.


	3. Behind the Sea

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Three

Behind the Sea

* * *

Aside from a few bruises – namely on my arms and wrists – and a couple of scratches from the grenade I had haphazardly launched there at the end – I was without injury. Wufei, too, had managed to avoid injury. As soon as he'd heard my capture over the communication link, he'd gone into hiding to wait for the opportune moment to spring me free.

We were even quieter on our way back to Preventors than we'd been going out.

Heero. Heero was alive. And just as my mind told me that, reveled in that, it also told me that the Heero I knew, _my_ Heero, the Heero I loved more than anything else I'd ever seen or heard or imagined, was dead. Beyond dead. He was a walking corpse. He was what he had always despised. He would hate himself for what he'd become.

I knew, deep in my heart, that the one thing he would want of me now was his death.

The only problem was that I wasn't strong enough to do it.

"Maxwell." Wufei finally spoke. Though his voice was low and soft, it sounded like a gunshot in the silence.

"...Yeah?"

"This is too big for just us."

"...Yeah."

We said nothing again until we reached Une's office.

* * *

We had our little mini-army set up within the next twenty-four hours.

Une had been stone-faced when we'd turned in our little report. She and I both knew a part of me felt it was her fault that Heero was in this position. We also both knew that I wouldn't stand to let anyone else kill him.

Kill him.

I was alone now, alone because I had to be to prepare myself for the next day, when we would storm the place once more. Because if I wouldn't let anyone else kill him, I had to.

I had to kill Heero.

So I was sitting alone in my little room next to Une, locking others out like a child. Because I couldn't imagine it. I knew, logically, with my mind, that it wasn't him. Not anymore. But every single time I tried to imagine cutting his throat, or shooting him, or burning him to ash in an explosion...

I bent over the waist, hand clasped to my mouth. Yeah, every time I thought of that I threw up.

The table I sat one was sturdy oak, dark, almost like mahogany. The chairs around it – only two – were the same, and they had dark red, faded padding. Then there was the couch, the chair. Everything was dark red, faded. Even the carpet. I went over to the bathroom down the hall and used the sink. At least no one had seen me in my moment of weakness.

I laughed over the sink. I sounded like Wufei.

He was dead. Or at least he might as well have been, except his body was being used by the enemy, which was worse than dead. Only I couldn't help but see that face and remember those smiles he'd given me, or those fingers touching me so gently. I hated myself even more for having waited, for not even having had those three years before... before this. Now I only had a couple of months, months that had been ruined over and over again because I had been attacked over and over again.

I knew I could blame whoever I wanted. I could blame Une for sending him out there alone. I could blame that sneaky Giraffe-neck scientist for changing him. I could blame every single cyborg, every single malformed creature and every single soldier for capturing him. But I knew who was really at fault.

Me. It was all my fault for putting him through this.

If not for me, he wouldn't have faced Caribol at that time, and he never would have needed to go alone. He could have been rescued, just as Wufei had been about to rescue me. He shouldn't be partnered with _me_. He _should_ have been partnered with Heero.

Heero.

But I didn't dare say his name aloud. I couldn't. I absolutely couldn't. If I did, it would make all of this too real. Right now it was like a dream, a very, very horrific dream with way too many details. If I could just hold on to the dream, maybe it would be easier to do what I had to do. If not... then at least I'd be able to do it. If I thought about the reality of it, I would throw up again. And maybe I would start crying. I wouldn't let myself do that. I had no right. Instead I had to go and kill him... his body... and take down Caribol. Then Une. Maybe. At least I'd seen the woman suffering when she read our report. Maybe I would let her live. Then I would die. I could spend the rest of eternity crying in hell.

* * *

I was ready.

Well, we were all ready, out of the vans that had taken us all two blocks away from that damn building – an in arrogance Giraffe-neck had stayed in the place – and we were all setting up. I didn't know any of the members, since I'd holed myself up like a hermit, but Wufei told me they were the best that could be gotten, that no Preventors agent couldn't take care of himself. Personally I couldn't imagine Une letting a man get through without testing his balls for supreme durability, but if Wufei was willing to back them, they _had_ to be good. I let him know I had no problem with them, just as long as they let me do what I had to do. He understood.

So here I was, about to break into the building once again. I'd already accessed all of the newly-made passwords – obviously the fools hadn't thought to ask Heero... Heero's body... to make them – and had them all memorized and passed down amongst our troop. How many? I think Wufei had said about fifty people, each armed with armor-piercing bullets. Whatever. As long as they didn't get in my way.

Wufei's voice came over our link. "Everyone in position? Over."

We each called out our respective numbers and positions. "Red Alpha," I said, "in position by the West entrance."

When we were all done, Wufei called out his own position. "Black Alpha, in position by the East entrance. Go on my signal. And..." I took a deep breath, not letting myself think about my own personal mission. "Go."

I surged forward, low and lithe, taking in the front guards – three this time – one my own, then leading the eight men with me inside. We didn't bother with stealth; it would be impossible with this many people. We just charged in with guns blasting and the ridiculous-looking apparel of killers.

The halls were filled with creeps after only two yards. Heero's doing, I was sure, since these people seemed about as strategically brilliant as cockroaches. The halls had been cleaned before we'd returned; plaster had been put over the previous bullet holes. They wouldn't be able to redecorate the room now. Chunks of the walls were gone. The creeps were mostly defects, weaponless. From the other side of the building I could hear screams. They were taking out one side at a time.

I snarled. They could kill everyone else if they wanted, but they couldn't kill Wufei.

"Wufei, stay on the line with me," I called tersely. Some blond guy came beside me and shot down a full-fledged cyborg. The man faltered back a step, but kept coming forward. The blond had only hit his right chest, a place made fully out of metal. It had slipped through his body, but it hadn't caused irreparable damage. I shot the man through his human eye. With a scream and a gurgle, he fell.

"Nice kill, Strike," the blond whooped. He shot down a half-formed creeper and taunted another. I'd have to keep an eye on him. He probably shouldn't die, either.

"I'm fine. We're in the stairwell."

Fuck. They had to go up, most probably into a trap. "Back-up one, explosives in the second floor East wing. Back-up one, send explosives to the second floor of the East wing."

"Roger that."

Wufei didn't argue, so he knew I was right. Was he trying to get himself killed? Stupid bastard. His honor code must be skewed again. How dare he live beyond his partner and all that jazz. Guess I'd have to add 'pep talk' to my list of things to do before I died. I was never good at that sort of shit.

It was a while before we could follow him up. A couple of guys, when we finally did, were sporting injuries. Neither complained. Wufei had been right about their training.

Blondie was faring all right. He'd used up a bit more ammo than everyone else, but he'd kept charging into the front to attack. Mister Gung-ho was never actually in the war, but he was strong and he was quick and he snapped me out of my self-induced stupor for seconds at a time, so I couldn't begrudge him his eagerness. I remembered being eager myself, before all of the deaths started piling up too heavily in my mind.

I took a deep breath. I wouldn't have to worry about it for much longer. Nope.

We hurried up the stairwell, requesting cover fire. Back-up two took care of it this time. Back-up one had been found shortly after laying cover fire for Wufei's team. I told back-up two to spread for a few minutes; Heero would pinpoint their location if they stayed together. I told them not to hide too hard; Heero would look in those places. But what I didn't tell them was that when it came to strategies, Heero had both me and Wufei beat by miles. I would just have to hope I got to him first.

"Go for Giraffe-neck," I told Wufei, letting blondie go ahead of me. "He can be yours if you want him bad enough."

"I want him." Wufei's voice was dangerously calm.

"All right. I'll go after my own target."

"Good luck."

"Yeah." I couldn't say anything more than that.

We moved through the second floor, but there was nothing able to twitch, let alone gun us down. The third floor was the same, charred and demolished by our cover fire. That left the fourth floor, the floor that seemed to be taboo. I knew from the updates we'd all received that Wufei's group had made it to that floor and were being extra-cautious. "Be careful," I warned my own group. "Take care on this floor, but remember – Lab One is mine."

A chorus of "roger"s accompanied my words.

The fourth floor hadn't suffered any damage, not from my previous visit nor from today's. There was no one on the floor, so once again everything was empty and silent. I recognized the layout distinctly now. I could swear I was taking the exact same steps I'd taken before. But I forced myself off of the path I'd taken earlier. If he was going to wait for me in the lab again, he could damn well wait for me while I blew up the creepers in the storage area.

The storage room was locked with a tidy little metal door that might have kept out a third-rate pickpocket. I got it in a few seconds.

Blondie waited with me while I opened the door for reasons one hundred percent foreign to me. And when I stopped abruptly and glared at the empty room, he spoke up.

"Strike, how many steps ahead do you believe Yuy is?"

I hissed. "That's not Heero."

"Uh, right, right, because he was a psycho kinda guy but really upright, I know, but how many, do you think?"

I searched the room thoroughly, but there weren't any traps and we could safely shut the door without blowing ourselves up. "Oh, probably about five steps ahead on a twenty-step board."

The man whistled. "Yeah, we always knew if we had Agent Yuy on our team we could expect everyone to be going home to dinner with family."

I let my brain shut down then before it cracked my facade. "Yeah. Smart bastard." I led us away from the room.

"I'm Agent Callig. Neil Callig. I think we're around the same age."

"Is this really the time to be a groupie?" I asked, not in the mood for pleasantries.

"Why not? I might die soon."

That surprised a bark of a laugh from me. "Don't be too optimistic."

"I won't, sir. Where should we go now?"

There wasn't any point in going anywhere. If Heero lived, we died. I felt my chest clench. I quickly fixed the thought – if Heero's _body_ lived, we would all die. When I felt my chest settle a bit, I spoke. "You should clean off this floor. No one's going down, so all we have to do is work our way up. Just like a video game. If you leave enemies below you, you'll have to worry about both sides. Best to make sure you don't _have_ to watch your back now than be watching it later."

"Gotcha. I'll relay the message."

"And I know this'll be hard, Callig, but it would be best to kill everything. Cyborgs, creepers, _and_ humans."

Callig's eyes were a nice hazel-brown, but they were dead serious, even in that almost boyish face. "Roger that." And he went off down the pristinely white halls. I swore to myself that I would never own a house with white halls – and laughed. Of course I wouldn't.

It was only a few familiar steps over the lab. Today I would destroy the place, no matter what. I would move past this floor and continue up, all the way, until finally I could see that bastard's face pale and bloated on the ground. I would do it. Today.

I have no idea how long I stood outside that laboratory.

My heart was going crazy. My lungs wouldn't work right. I knew I had to charge forward, to just keep moving, just as I have been. But for the life of me I couldn't open that door. What is he _was _on the other side? What is he was waiting for me _right now_? Would I have to shoot him with those eyes looking right at me?

My entire body clenched then.

Three deep breaths had that going away so I could stand without so much discomfort. I had to open the door eventually. Wufei was waiting for me. I had to move. I had to do this and move on, because there were other people who were waiting for me to kill them...

_Heero._

This was not the time or the place to get weepy, but there I was, standing in front of the fourth floor laboratory and fighting back the crunching of the chest and the burning of the eyes that signal the onset of tears. My hands shook. My finger trembled on the trigger of my gun. I wanted to scream.

My right hand, free of any weaponry at the moment, reached up and touched the keypad. Cool. The keys were cool to the touch. I took another careful breath, held it for a moment. And when I released it, I keyed in the password. The door slid open with a soft whoosh of chilly air.

He wasn't there.

It was the first thing I noticed, the first thing that mattered. The room was just as white and pristine as the rest of this damn place, but I couldn't help but notice that there were not a billion creatures or body parts or sleeping cyborgs in here. The tubes sat clear and empty along the walls of the room, the walls by the doors still had shelves all along them. But they were all empty.

Heero's doing. He'd cleaned out this entire floor.

The others on my team confirmed it; blondie sounded particularly frustrated and disappointed. I reminded myself that his name was Neil Callig.

"We're going up to the next floor," I reported to Wufei. "Where are you?"

"Fifth floor, about to move up. You can skip it, Maxwell. There's nothing there. They moved up."

"Waiting."

"For us," he agreed.

"Then what was with the welcoming party?" But I thought I knew. "Distraction. They were planning something and only just now got it finished." As I said this, I silently ordered one of our men to get the two men guarding the stairwell and move them up two floor with us.

"I agree. The only question is what they could possibly be planning all the way up here."

"There are still about ten floors."

"This was a lot easier when we could stomp on these buildings," Wufei sighed.

I definitely agreed with that. "Oh, well."

"Maxwell." And he hesitated. "You okay with this?"

"I'll do it." Which was the only important thing.

Another short pause. "All right." Wufei knew. He definitely knew I was killing myself after all this. I wondered if he was going to try to stop me, or if he would want to join me. But I didn't want him to die.

That was probably selfish, since he probably didn't want _me_ to die, either.

Oh, well.

The staircases had the same white walls, white stairs, brown, wooden handrails. But when we busted down the door to the sixth floor, every single one of us froze for a heartbeat. Everything here was black, the walls, the ceiling. Even the floor, completely wooden, was painted as dark as a moonless night.

"Everyone back back," I whispered, then with a shout, _"now!"_

We shot back into the stairwell just as bullets started flying. I heard a very familiar scream of pain from the communication link, echoing from the other end of the hall.

"Wufei!"


	4. Time To Dance

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Four

Time To Dance

* * *

"Wufei!" I screamed again, backing my men a little more. I didn't know fear could still push me like this, but it was demanding I do something and when I let it take over it just said to hell with the bullets decimating everything and made me _move_.

We had packed everything humanly possible. Along with armor-piercing rounds, everyone here was equipped with MP-40's, for God's sake. And each of us had three grenades, to be used with extraordinary caution and only when absolutely necessary.

Wufei was hurt. It was necessary.

I chucked in one of them. The place blew like a furnace. From the link, I heard an echoing blast. Sounded like someone else thought it was about time we used a grenade or two. "Wufei, say something _now_."

I counted four consecutive heartbeats before finally, "I'm here."

He sounded like shit.

"I'm coming over," I told him, and ran through while the smoke still settled across the room. "Keep the stairway door open," I ordered. The room inside was unlit and dark as hell. Cyborgs may have night vision, but humans didn't. We were at an immediate disadvantage.

Heero's doing again.

A couple of my group coughed as they joined me, but blondie – fuck, Neil – was right beside me searching through the dust, same as I was. We both shot down the first creeper to try to rise from the debris.

"Take care of the rest, Callig," I ordered. "I'm going over to Agent Chang."

The guy nodded. "Roger that. Take care on your way, and you make sure you come back."

"I know." I slunk off to the side, carefully watching the cyborgs as several of them stood. They were strange – some looked like metal skeletons while others looked almost fully human. There was one that was standing that had what looked to be synthetic skin flapping like charred masks, revealing the metal underneath. My mind flashed an image of Heero like that. I blanked it out before the bile in my throat could escape again.

I had to shoot down a hand of all things – what is this, the living version of Zombie Nation? - before I made it over through the lobby that stood at mid-way before I saw a small group of cyborgs facing off with a flamethrower against Wufei's troop. It took all of one second for me to see that Wufei was not among them.

"Shit." He was definitely injured, and bad, if he wasn't even on the battlefield anymore.

"You should give up, too."

I couldn't help the quick, surprised gasp of pain at hearing that voice. I clutched my chest and turned with wide eyes. Behind me – how had I missed it? How had I not sensed it? - was Heero, leaning against a wall with a gun pointed straight at my chest. I felt my heart thump, one hard, painful beat, just like it had the last time I'd seen him.

_Not him. Just his body._

Yet I couldn't deny that that body was definitely his.

"Heero."

The name slid out without my permission. A name that cursed me. I heard that word and felt more pain than I ever could have imagined. I'd thought I was ready to look into that face again, to see those Prussian-blue eyes, to watch that hair of his swing in some nameless breeze. To look at those lips, up in that gentle, know-it-all smirk. I'd thought I was ready to pretend I didn't care anymore.

"Are you still waiting?"

It took me a moment to realize he was referencing my last words to him, my promise to always wait for him. I breathed in deeply and held it. "Always." And I lifted my own gun. He let me; he had to know he could dodge it. The bastard was impossible.

"I will inform my master."

The fury was there, right there, just waiting to bubble up. "You here to take me alive again?"

"Unfortunately, we cannot get the other. He has been taken down and is losing too much blood. It must be difficult to be mortal."

I could feel each heartbeat, the next more painful than the last. His eyes were so dead and empty. So cold. I felt the pain of tears again and had to fight them back. "Yeah," I admitted. "It's really hard. Look, Heero, do we have to fight?"

"No." He stood straight, pulling himself away from the wall. "You can surrender."

Another deep breath. I had to calm down and focus. This was _not_ Heero. Not anymore. "See, Heero, a couple of months ago..." But I couldn't mention the promise he'd made. Not to a different man. I couldn't say to this stranger that he'd sworn to return to me. "A couple of months ago," I tried again, "what you'd wanted had been a lot different. And the you back then was one I cared a great deal for. So I'm going to get what you wanted for you, since you can't get it yourself anymore."

"Did you love me, Duo Maxwell?"

My hand twitched.

He shot the gun out of my hand, lunged forward. I dodged to the side, catching myself against the wall and pushing myself off as he swung a kick at my face. I pulled out my MP-40 and aimed it.

_Don't hesitate._

I didn't let myself think about it. I just pulled the trigger. Heero flew back, somersaulting like he'd taken lessons from Trowa. A quick roll to the side had him dodging my next attack. I pulled out another grenade and watched him raise his gun again.

I ripped out the eyepiece and threw it. "Sorry, Heero."

A bullet grazed my head just as the world around me exploded.

* * *

"Duo! Duo, dammit!"

I groaned. Wufei's voice was coming from the communication link. He sounded pretty pissed off. And absolutely horrified, to boot. "How long?" I asked. My head was ringing like a bitch, and my face and arms burned. I remembered doing something really stupid, something like setting off a grenade right in front of my own face. I opened my eyes.

"Only about a minute."

My breath stuttered horribly as I made out Heero's unmistakable form. Oh yeah. How had I forgotten? The man was immortal.

"Come with me."

Heero's hand reached out for me. Without thinking, I slapped it away. "No!" I snapped. "You aren't Heero – I'm not going with you!"

Heero... Heero's body-snatching cyborg stood. "Then I must injure you." I was already injured. Idiot. "Prepare yourself."

I scowled. "The real Heero would have already done something by now, you coward."

"Understood." He raised his gun up again, this time pointing it at my leg. I moved to push myself up and bit back a scream. Shit. The burns hurt. "Owari da," (1) he whispered, words spoken in a language I couldn't understand.

"Not yet," I sneered, standing in defiance of that gun and wondering if I'd given a correct enough response. "Not until I finish what I have to finish. You got that, Yuy?!" I flipped up onto my hand, ignoring the pain, and backflipped into the hallway. I didn't see any cyborgs on either side of my peripheral vision. I took the chance and ran off toward Wufei's side. "I need cover fire!" I shouted, as loud as possible. My communication link had probably been fried in some way – it was making creepy crackling noises that made me just take it off and break it – but I heard a small chorus of "roger that"s and rolled down just as bullets ripped all around me. I listened carefully, just to be certain. A whirring sounded, then only the gunshots. "Enough!"

That was right. Heero had showed up from out of nowhere. He'd used some sort of passageway that we didn't know about. And if there was a passageway we hadn't covered, that meant there was an escape route.

We had to hurry.

I hardly took the time to look at my own wounds; I was burned all over my arms and my face and had blood trickling down the side of my face. Heero, the bastard, hadn't looked much the worse for wear. Seemed the cyborg look was better than I'd thought.

I would _not_ be happy about that.

I ran to the stairwell then, slipping past three guards. "Wufei? Wufei!"

He was resting against the wall, hand pressed against his side. He looked up at me when I entered and gave me a partly-sheepish, mostly-frustrated look. His shirt was off, showing off burns that were blistering much worse than mine. A couple of places looked almost third-degree. But his side was what had been shot, and the makeshift bandages were bloody.

"So you wanted to look like me, huh?" I said playfully, squatting down beside him.

"Hardly, Maxwell." He looked me over. "Are you all right?"

"I," I said haughtily, "can still walk. Got any commentary for that one?"

"Yeah. It's a first."

I stuck out my tongue at him.

"I heard... Yuy's voice."

"Yeah. He disappeared from the lobby."

Wufei frowned and struggled to stand. Understanding, I lent him an arm. When he was standing, I led him forward. My MP-40 was almost melted in my hand. Wufei ordered one of the others to hand me their weapon and handed out orders. We needed the guards at the stairwells to remain where they were, but we told them to get in touch with us every five minutes on the dot with full permission to shoot off whenever they feel the need. He also told the rest of my squad to meet up with us in the lobby.

It was a ridiculous trip through the halls and past the labs. The rooms were all empty, exact echoes of the fourth floor. But the halls in which all of the enemy forces had stood were beyond dirty and littered. It would be impossible to explain to a non-veteran. Pieces of body fat lay dripping in blood and – this sounds so lame – oil. Not oil, precisely, but the grease that helps the gears of a mechanical body move. The puddles were dangerous because of the computer chips and loose wiring that fell limply into each one. The bodies were our walkway, and only the rubber synthetically-covered parts. Fingers sat in puddles. Legs were wrenched either to impossible angles or were lying lonely without the rest of the body to lie with them. Each charred face revealed a science fiction depiction of cursed mummies. To get to the lobby was to pass through a small circle of hell.

But when we did finally arrive in that room, it was as dark as the hallway and barren. I remembered the whooshing sound and thought about the sealed room off the first floor stairway. "It's a hidden door," I said grimly. "Spread out and search, everyone. Don't have two people searching the same stretch of the wall. When you find it, tell Wufei or myself immediately."

* * *

"Sirs, I think I found it."

It was absolutely no surprise to me whatsoever that it was blondie who was pointing to the wall. Wufei and I stood on each side of him and studied the wall. Sure enough, a secret hatch was just sitting there, flat against the wall, waiting for someone to open it. I took a deep breath. "This is a dangerous route. We can't all use it."

Wufei glared at me. "Absolutely not."

"I'm not going alone," I huffed. "Bl... Callig will accompany me, and you can pick up to two other people."

"_I'm_ going with you," he hissed.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're injured. Besides," I continued quickly, knowing how those words would get him spitting like a cobra, "I need someone who can back me up."

Wufei hesitated.

"You're here, Chang, not hours away on a train protecting an invalid." Yeah, I didn't want to think about how it was all my fault. I'd fallen quite well into mission-mode, thank you, and I didn't want to fall back out. "I need back-up."

Finally Wufei nodded. "I understand. But you come out _alive_, Maxwell."

I didn't bother telling him that if I did, it would be borrowed time, anyway. "Fine. You, too."

He looked like he was hiding a good piece of information from me, too. A piece of information that probably echoed my own. Damn honor code. "Fine," he responded.

Blondie looked like he really wanted to say something, but somehow he seemed to get the hint that two upset veterans with guns shouldn't be annoyed.

* * *

The small whoosh opened us up into a pretty spacious little elevator. I frowned at it; elevators weren't even remotely safe. Before we went anywhere, I had Wufei's two bodyguards – two big, hulking monsters with extra ammo strapped to their chests just to make doubly sure they looked terrifying – hold the door open while I checked for bombs and explosives both inside and outside the box. Every second told me we were losing them, but we couldn't wait.

Finally I was satisfied and we were moving up. No sooner had the cables begun working than Wufei got in touch with the other three's communication links.

"Maxwell! Back-up one and back-up two both confirmed three helicopters moving in. There is also movement on the roof. I repeat, three helicopters and movement on the roof – dammit, Maxwell, they're running."

"Of course their running. Fucking chicken-shit giraffe-neck." I double-checked my gun and refused to think about how I'd aimed it at Heero. I would have to do it again.

"His name is Holden Landsing," Callig said.

"Holden? Isn't that supposed to be a jock's name?" I snorted. My gun was ready. Much more ready than me.

"Go figure." Neil shrugged.

"I thought Holden was more a soap opera name," one of the Beef Twins piped up.

"Not exactly the best name for a geek, anyway," I muttered, thinking I could potentially be called a geek. I winced at that.

"Feeling all right, sir?" Bl – dammit, Neil – asked.

"Fine. Look, keep your eyes open, people. We're sitting ducks here. Hey," I called, "Wufei. In position yet?"

"ETA in thirty seconds."

"Good. We should arrive around then, too."

"The helicopters have landed."

I'd already confirmed that with my ears. The loud little buggers were chopping the air above us. I got the nasty feeling this elevator was going straight up to the roof, no 'last floor' bullshit. We'd be walking straight onto a battlefield. "Get ready," I told everyone. "We're about to enter round three."

Each clicked their Glocks in unison. Feds. _Neil_ and I went first up onto the roof of the elevator, and the Hulks followed somewhat clumsily after us.

The elevator was silent when it lolled to a stop. Five perfunctory bullets split the metal doors. The Hulks, blondie and I dropped down from the outside of the box then and hunkered low until the doors opened. Callig helpfully threw a bomb as soon as the doors began opening. There was a shout, a girlish scream – _had_ to be Giraffe-neck – and the inevitable explosion. We all braced ourselves and jumped out even as a helicopter bounced slightly in the flames.

One down.

Heero had pulled Giraffe-neck to safety and was right now pulling him back up and behind him. I hissed at the sight, but I didn't hesitate. The Hulks and blondie raised their guns, too, and fired.

They weren't the only two here; there were two more scientists and four more cyborgs, each as human-looking as Heero. I was sure that, for now, these were the five 'Gundam pilots' that Giraffe-neck was using as his main defense. The other four cyborgs were pulling out their own weapons – unlike the defects, they didn't have weapons in their bodies – and firing at us, protecting the other two scientists until they were safely on-board the helicopter. Then they laid cover fire for Heero and Dickhead... Giraffe-neck.

The cover space was limited and they had a burning wreckage of a helicopter to hide behind. One of the Hulks took a hit to the arm and lost his weapon.

And goddammit but every time we went for a grenade, Heero Yuy shot the fucking thing into the sky. We stopped pulling them out after the third one almost got blondie in the blast.

We couldn't help it; when Wufei's team popped up and began firing, they dove into the helicopter – they being three cyborgs and Giraffe-neck. Heero and one other cyborg stayed behind, shooting down Wufei's grenade when he tried to sail it at the helicopter.

The choppers churned up dust and debris and began lifting and there was absolutely nothing we could do to stop it. Heero was risking his life for that skinny, slimy little bastard and I had to fucking kill him.

Giraffe-neck waved good-bye.

"Heero!" I screamed over the roar of the choppers. He looked right at me, those beautiful eyes blank, and shot at me once again. I had no choice but to roll and let Wufei and his team send cover fire.

"Fire a tracking device," Neil said from beside me, snapping the directions into the link. I didn't hear the affirmative, but Neil nodded and shot at Heero two more times. Heero kept dodging, just barely, but with that same incredible speed and agility as before.

"Neil," I snapped, "aim for him. Hulks!" I called, and oddly enough both turned to me, "Aim for his left. I've got his right. Ready?"

"Aim!" We each lifted our guns in unison. I saw understanding flash in his eyes and wished I couldn't pretend to see _my_ Heero in there, looking at me with such sorrow that I felt my heart seize its beating.

I would be killing myself right here, in this moment. Right now. I accepted that as the only thing I could do. And for this, I would make certain my death was slow.

"Fire!"

* * *

Notes:

Owari da = This is the end, roughly translated.

Also, though I know this just might shock you: I know nothing about weapons. I know practically nothing about science fiction. And I'm not exactly a nurse. Practically everything I write is made up and probably bordering clichés. I apologize, but that's about how I roll. Hope everyone enjoyed! ^_^


	5. Intermission

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Five

Intermission

* * *

He fell to the floor, dropping himself like a rock and successfully avoiding all of our bullets. I snarled and tried again, but he'd already popped his ass back up and begun running. He launched up into the air and snatched the rung of the helicopter. Then he turned and fired at us again.

"Down! Down! Down!" Wufei cried, and Neil shoved me onto the ground when my knees refused to give. Bullets ricocheted around us, slamming into the concrete. One of the Hulks grunted sharply. Neil hissed. I felt blood splatter my face.

"Neil, are you okay?!" I snapped.

"N-Not too damaged," he answered. The helicopter's blades whipped the air into an absolute frenzy, deafening me, but the sound was getting lighter and lighter, harder and harder to hear.

"Duo?" Wufei's voice came to me from Neil's link. "The tracking device has successfully latched onto the second helicopter."

"The one Heero _isn't_ on, right?"

"Right," he affirmed. "Now, status report!"

A chorus of 'not too damaged's and 'all clear's hit our ears. Neil and I gave our own reports. The Hulks – apparently not at all related, with names of Smith Brogan and Brian O'Donnell – were both injured. It seemed that, for once, I was the only one coming out _un_scathed.

Then all of us stood up and looked around and sighed. The badly injured ones were lucky – they would be heading back now, to think about their failure only after waking up from the anesthetic. Those of us with fairly minor scrapes and burns – lucky ol' me – would be able to think over every minute of the failed mission while searching the building for the other cyborgs unimportant enough to be left behind.

* * *

We must have shot down fifty damn creepers before we dealt with the cyborgs at all. Wufei had been packed away, burned-ass body and bullet wound too much for his followers to ignore, along with Neil and the two Hulks. Neil had taken one right to the back – one that would have gotten me, damn damn damn my luck. One Hulk had taken an arm, and one had taken a leg.

I might've been able to go to the hospital on a pity service if I'd told anyone Heero'd clipped me on the head before I blew us both... before I blew up the room in which we'd stood, harming somehow only myself... but it would help me out, and that wasn't right.

And it wasn't surprising that I'd managed to go without telling them – after all, cyborgs were only half robot. Everyone had so much blood and gunk on them it was a wonder we didn't light on fire when we moved.

So I got to stay behind and think about all the times I'd aimed my gun at Heero Yuy and thought very hard about killing him. Honestly, it didn't matter that it wasn't him, or that the real Heero was dead, or even that this would be what Heero wanted. What mattered was that I was going to kill that body, and that body, to me, was Heero.

But, of course, I was nothing if not stubborn, so instead I would force my mind away from such thoughts, and I would instead try to think of something better, something I could hope to look forward to. Like my death, for instance. Killing Heero was such an outrageous sin that I had to be absolutely certain I paid for it. My death would have to be slow, agonizingly slow, but quick enough that no one could save me in time. That would be fairly simple – there were plenty of places to hide in this world, and if worse came to worse, I could just fly out on my Wing. She was still docked in port on Preventor's money (ha ha, that's right, like hell _I_ was paying for it). She was just waiting for me, practically all healed after her disastrous meeting with Harlow's little bitches. I could just go to her.

Then, of course, I had to decide just what I would do to myself. It sounded masochistic, and also somehow sadistic at the same time, but I had to think about it now to think of the best thing to do. I wouldn't torture myself, that was just sick, but I _would_ kill myself slowly, with something that would specifically kill me slowly. I kept thinking about it, over and over, but my mind just kept falling back to poisons. I know they were supposed to be a lady's weapon, but damned if they didn't do their work.

And of course, if I wanted to go painfully, I should probably go for antimony or arsenic or even – and here even I shuddered – strychnine. Of course, thallium had been my first idea, but I couldn't take the idea of losing my hair, even though I should hurt myself. It was just that... Heero had loved touching my hair. Even _if_ the cure was called Prussian blue (and that was why I'd thought I should take thallium), I couldn't stand to let myself die in a form that Heero hadn't loved. Maybe I was a little crazy.

So I helped pull the bodies of the creepers into a truck to be taken to an old site where they crushed old metal and thought about which I should take. There were other poisons, but I'd been given immunities and those other poisons didn't have a one hundred percent success rate with me. And any other way wouldn't be as slow a death as I thought it should be.

The creepers were heavy, the work monotonous. I let my mind slip to Wufei, blissfully knocked up on morphine in the Preventor's own private hospital. I really did hope that he was okay. Wufei was always the one to come in and save everyone _else_ from injury. I could count the number of times I'd seen him hurt on one hand, and two of those times would be since I returned. I kind of hoped he stayed in that hospital for a while, conked out on pain meds. It would save him the horror of the memories.

"Strike," a man called, "we have five men with the cyborgs now. Orders?"

"Don't get killed," I mumbled under my breath, then, "be careful. Leave them inside whatever device holds them until you can get a good estimate as to their comprehension. Try to explain who you are and what you intend to do – show no sign of violence until they show some toward you. Oh. And it doesn't hurt to smile." I grinned at the man.

He gave me a bemused look and copied my instructions over his link. Damn, it was a pain not to have mine.

Strychnine was the best, I thought suddenly. Even though it was only a few hours, the pain was unbelievable. I would bend and twist like a wet noodle, and I would be conscious when I died. Of course, balancing on my head and tip-toes didn't sound very good, and because of the pull on my muscles, I might die smiling. But maybe that suited my Jester mask?

I loaded the last of the creepers into the truck and turned to go inside to help with the cyborgs. Strychnine would be the way to go. Slow, agonizing death, death while conscious, bouts of body-pretzal-ing torture that got worse and worse after every pause. Better yet, the jaw locked during those bouts – I wouldn't be able to scream. (1)

The cyborgs had been stashed in the labs on the ninth floor, just under the top floor. Most looked human, and we offered them all assistance. Une had even said that, if they passed the psych evaluations and other tests, they could potentially join the Preventors. If they wanted death, she would give them that, too. If they wanted to resist, we would offer them the second option, but not the first. We ended up killing about four out of five, and only about twenty percent of _those_ wanted to try the evaluations. Predictably, the last portion looked wholly human, the first portion a bastard mix, and the middle portion more robot than man.

A Prevntor officer who had randomly proclaimed to me to be eighty percent pure Puerto Rican – whatever that was – came up to me, wiping his hands on a greasy shirt. His chest was covered by nothing than his Kevlar. "We're about done. Only a few more, then we can go check on our comrades, eh?"

I nodded, still kind of lost in thought. I wasn't really a big fan of pain, so wasn't this extremely stupid?

"Is something wrong? Have you had any trouble?"

"Nah," I answered, looking over. One cyborg looked a little odd, with one leg a little thicker than the other. He had informed myself and an agent named Railiff that it was because that leg had two bowie knives underneath the synthetic skin that could be pulled out without compromising the ability to run. He wanted to sign up with the Preventors.

"That's good. It's been nice on our side, too, except for that fool with the assault rifle. (2) But you've had your share, too, eh?"

"Yeah. Irritating little shits," I said automatically, not thinking at all about my words.

"Tell me about it. Look, I'm going down, seeing if maybe I have some coffee left in my car. Old and stale by now, but the caffeine's still there, right?"

"Right," I said unknowingly. "We've got our priorities."

"Yeah. It's just a bitch running all the way back there."

"I know." I didn't really think about it – I'd hitched a ride with Wufei. He'd given me the keys, so I was free to take his car. It wasn't much of anything to run to Wufei's car – only a couple of blocks away. I was always in great shape.

"Well, take care, Strike. It was nice to meet you. You know, I don't think you're nearly as crazy as some people say."

I laughed, but only because his tone said I should. "I get that a lot." Where could I find strychnine? Well, I supposed there was some sort of structure for whatever rumor old Mr. Puerto Rico had heard, because someone searching for a poison to kill themselves was definitely crazy. I was suddenly very curious as to how that particular rumor got started. Who exactly were these 'some people'?

"Feeling well?" I asked that last cyborg. At his affirmative, I brought him down the elevator with me. Except for his bowie knives, he was stripped of all weapons, while I had my MP-40 in my hands at the ready, a safety precaution we'd warned all cyborgs of before giving them their choice.

We were silent on our way down. We each had our own thoughts, I guess, and neither of us were willing to open up to some stranger in a tiny little elevator booth. The elevator smoothed to a stop, and the doors were opening before I realized that the 'borg was supposed to ride in a Preventor's van. "You got your ride?"

"Yes," the cyborg assured me. I let that go without asking anything else.

He and I didn't say good-bye as we went our separate ways. There was no reason to pretend to be normal, polite people. He was a cyborg who had gone through hell, most likely with minimal anesthetic. And I was a killer. Alone with only one another, there was no need for false pleasantries.

I thought about Wufei, alone in the hospital and spitting mad, and forced myself to jog to the car.

* * *

"Maxwell, you and I need to talk."

Wufei was propped up against pillows and the tilted bedpost. He'd come out of surgery about an hour before I'd arrived, suffering through it with a local anesthetic, unwilling to wait unconscious for himself to heal. With his wound, though, he was pretty much out of action. He took to that about as well as I had.

He and I had been bantering fairly lightly about nothing, carefully avoiding hot spots, when Wufei had sighed and pulled out that little number. I merely looked down to my lap.

"Maxwell, we haven't spoken much since... Heero died."

I hissed out a breath. Wufei was right – I had to see Heero as dead. At least he was having the same trouble I was.

"Duo," he said gently, "what do you plan to do?"

I cleared my throat. Telling Wufei I had finally been able to decide upon my choice of poison probably wouldn't be a good idea. It would probably be better to stay on short-term goals. "I'm going to kill him."

"Which one?"

I knew he was referencing both Heero and Mr. Giraffe-Neck. "Both."

Wufei sighed. "And after that?"

"I'm getting drunk." Poison and alcohol was always an interesting mix, after all. And if I was sober, I just might chicken out and drink cyanide, a quick-killer, instead.

Wufei sighed again; I figured he knew I was hiding something. "I may want to join you on that. But, bluntly, Duo, my question is: how are you planning to kill yourself?"

I recovered damn quickly. I'd suspected Wufei had known, and I'd suspected, he'd try to talk about it if he did. I _hadn't_ expected him to just throw it out there like that. Especially not like that. "Wufei?"

"Don't 'Wufei' me. I've seen it in your eyes. I know what it is because _I've_ felt the same way. I feel like I've failed him, and in failing him, I have failed myself. In the worst way."

"Well you didn't fail him nearly as badly as I did. _I'm_ the one who got him killed, after all. But I _am_ kind of pissed with you." I saw Wufei flinch, but I ignored it. His room was pristinely white, as all hospital rooms were. The window was right beside him; Preventors didn't like having a hospital with a lot of people in the room. Une said it was a bacterial disaster. So Wufei had his own little room with his own little window. All I could see out there from my position was a tiny bit of cloudy sky. "You did something I was never brave enough – or well enough," I chuckled mercilessly, "to try."

He didn't seem to have much to say. He knew, of course, that I was talking about that long-ago mission he'd had with Heero. But then he recovered and grabbed my arm. Even though he was injured and burned and wrapped similarly to a mummy, the grip was as strong as steel. "Duo. You absolutely cannot kill yourself. Neither can I. You understand that, don't you? There's just too much we need to do. We're still needed here, if only because we'll be missed."

"I agree," I said slowly, being very, very careful about what I said. "Wufei, you're a top-class Preventor. You have subordinates who look up to you. And I have my merc job."

Wufei's eyes flashed a quick flurry of emotions. I'd gotten a bit better at reading him over the months; he looked a bit stricken. "Duo, we don't... _I_ don't," he corrected, "want to lose you again. And I don't think Heero would want-"

"Heero can't decide anymore," I said harshly. Fuck it; I could make the strychnine myself. "He's dead."

Wufei flinched a bit at that. "But you would honor his memory," he said quickly, throwing that word in my face.

"I'm not honorable, Wufei. That goes into your field, not mine."

Wufei took a second to glare at his IV. Maybe he was getting some medication from it? That might explain why I was actually beating him in a persuasive argument. And maybe he knew it.

I leaned back in my seat, balancing on two legs. A nurse would kill me. "Besides, I didn't say I would kill myself." And I didn't say I wouldn't, either. "Yeah, I've thought about it. Even planned it out and everything. But it's not like I'm throwing away my life." I'm just giving up on it. Life isn't trash to be dumped, but sometimes people feel like maybe it's not worth wasting the world's oxygen supply for, either. I was the latter.

"Duo, promise you won't kill yourself."

"You first," I said firmly, smacking the chair down. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were with _me_. You did everything you could to protect as many as you could." Too bad the 'many' in this case just happened to be me instead of Heero. We picked the wrong person to protect.

Wufei was staring sardonically at me, then at the chair. He quirked an eyebrow at me as if to ask me if I was asking to be kicked out. I just shrugged and grinned for him and sat back in my seat again. "I won't kill myself, Maxwell. I still have to beat some sense into Barton."

I figured he was referencing Trowa's less-than-stellar attitude towards my existence. "Eh, he'll either get over it or he won't." I hesitated. "If I _do_ decide to go out into space again, I _will_ visit." But I had absolutely no intention of 'going out into space again,' so the point was moot.

Wufei looked at the legs of my chair again, seemingly unhappy with my little arrangement. Good grief, he was like Heero in mother-henning. I couldn't see why; _he_ was the one in the hospital bed. This time. "Now you, Duo. Promise."

I grimaced. Even if I hadn't sworn to Sister Helen that I wouldn't lie (which had somehow scarred me so that I just _couldn't_ lie), a promise to a friend was a sacred oath. And even if I miraculously managed to kill my conscience on that score, the idea of Wufei blaming himself for believing me would guilt-trip me into hunting him down wouldn't be too hard for now) and tell him the truth. Of course, carefully skirting the issue would probably cause the same thing. But I didn't _want_ to suffer through life anymore. I'd caught my minute of joy. It was gone forever now.

Thank God, but a nurse came in and saved my sorry hide. I gave Wufei an apologetic look (and the nurse the same after she glared at my seat) and left the room.

* * *

A/N:

Yeah... I actually looked this shit up. Check out http://www(dot)bbc(dot)co(dot)uk/dna/h2g2/A4113983 for more inspiration.

(2) I've been watching my brother play Fallout 3. You can thank him and the makers of the game if you want.


	6. Camisado

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Six

Camisado

* * *

And I know this may be shocking, but I'm gonna say it: the helicopter landed.

Une got in touch with meas soon as the tracking device showed a stop. We both knew it was only a matter of time before Heero – Heero's cyborg wannabe – found the thing, so we had to move, and we had to do it quickly.

Ever wonder why there were cyborgs like Greaves, then one like Heero? The thought had been trying very hard to poke me for a while now, but I'd never taken it into account. But according to Une, who was speaking according to the testimonies of the cyborgs who'd returned to HQ for testing and whatever, the ones that had shot at us on site were the ones who's minds had been tampered with. And the one who'd been trying to weep uncontrollably during our damn investigation had been the same, but the scientists had fucked up the amygdala and his emotions had been crazy. It was odd, because she spoke of 'putting him down' like one would a sick animal.

You know what, I suddenly realized, parking my car and getting my ass into Headquarters – front door this time – this was quite possibly the makings of the worst science fiction story ever. Yep; and the only thing that made it not-bullshit was the fact that the man I love – loved, loved – was in the thick of it.

My mind didn't even take in Une's words all that much – I caught the term "Las Vegas" and understood there'd be an interesting little flight ahead of us before we reached where we needed to go, along with a small problem of enormous population in relatively tiny city. I understood that we were getting a new batch of Preventors and weapons and Auto Assault-12 shotguns that shot frags and shit. Frags? Oh yeah. Sweeeet.

But beyond that was the ever-churning, ever-heavier thought that I was still on a mission to kill... to destroy the body of the man I love... d.

Could anyone possibly understand that? The idea that my Heero, the one thing that had saved me from my pathetic little self when I'd been sure I would stay in Space's arms until death, was gone. Because of me.

And not just gone. Used. Lost, but still there. And what was left had to be destroyed, and I couldn't leave his rest in anyone's hands but my own. It was the least I owed to him. The fact that my martyr side had kicked in to the point where I wanted to kill myself immediately afterward was supposed to be ignored, but really? It showed pretty much everything there was to know about me that I'd wanted to learn.

So when we were all climbing aboard our Preventors' jet, minus Blondie and the two Hulks and one extremely pissed off Wufei, all I could think was that this situation would be ridiculously hilarious if it weren't worse than my worst nightmares.

Without wanting or meaning to, my mind flashed back to those days during the war when just a word from Heero had been a treasure, and I found that I just couldn't begrudge Quatre and Relena their work on him, getting him to smile and laugh and... love... again. I couldn't begrudge them for it simply because it had been such a short amount of time.

I mean, think about it... he and I were around nineteen years old. Twenty? Not even legal to drink, and he was dead.

Jesus. We hadn't even lifted off and here I was fighting tears.

All around me on the plane were men laughing and joking with one another, pumped for the fight, adrenaline-rushed. It didn't chug through me like it did then; I would feel it later, when the jet was landing, when I could no longer ignore where I was going and why. I let my eyes study the jet and its occupants. Oddly I was happy that Wufei wasn't around. He would probably be stuck thinking the same things I was, trapped here in this plane. But that wasn't quite fair, because he was probably just thinking about them alone in his house, rolling around in a wheelchair and cursing his weakness. I knew the feeling.

At least I would have death looking me in the face. It was as good a distraction as any.

* * *

Okay. I'd been a street rat only _my whole life_, so I'd never needed to know what the hell Las Vegas was or why, even though it was fucking nighttime, the sky was lit like it was noon. No wonder the men had been so damn excited; there were so many damn lights I felt blinded. I stared out my window in pure shock. Where the fuck were we?

"Did you know," a man beside me said excitedly, "that Las Vegas was once the brightest area when seen from space?"

"Not Tokyo?" another, deeper voice responded, "or NNY?"

The man snorted. "New New York is just a historical city now, dude. No reason for the light show, you know?"

I tuned them out. Brightest city? They were hiding in the brightest – excuse me – ex-brightest city in the world? Who the fuck did they think they were hiding from, the bogeyman? They had to know that major cities were the first places searched. Heero would know. Maybe they had shit they had to do?

Well, in any case, they were screwed now. I tensed, feeling the plane dip. Ever wondered about that? Unlike rockets and spaceships, jets and planes always seemed to drop like they were going down stairs. Plunk. Plunk. If only the air could make noises when it was hit. But wouldn't that get annoying?

It was time to get ready to do what I'd failed to do up to this point. Everyone else was doing the same as me, checking their shit and generally making sure they were ready in case Giraffe-Neck – what was his name? Holden... Landsing? Something like that – had somehow found out we were on his tail. Une informed the crew at large that the device was still blinking and was in the same place, but if Heero found it, then that hardly mattered at all. He'd just plop it to the ground and have Ass Face back up in the air and long gone. Though I have to admit that it broke several air laws to do so. Guess Peanut Anatomy didn't care about that.

Wufei wasn't here to kill that man-whore, so it was up to me to get vengeance for the both of us.

And I would.

"All right, everyone, listen up," Une said, standing before the plane came to a complete and total stop. Guess we weren't exactly following all the rules of the air, either. "There is a hotel called the Rising Stars on the far East edge of the city."

"Casino?" the Vegas-ologist behind me asked. Une just quirked her eyebrow sardonically. I took that to mean that Casino Hotels were the norm here.

Well, that would make this interesting. I remembered vaguely a movie I'd seen with a cop in street clothes darting around in a casino with armed thugs chasing after him. Hopefully we would not have any of that.

"We'll be going in in two groups," she informed us, and continued to lay out a more detailed plan than she'd given us back at HQ. It involved a small sniper team set up in two hotel rooms in the building beside the Rising Stars and two teams, one manned by Lady... uh, I mean Commander... Une herself, and the other led by me again. A lot of the names she listed off as my crew sounded familiar and I recognized them from the bust on Caribol headquarters. Then she said we were going in the same way, one team the front line and the second the cavalry, as it were, and I remembered also a scene with a cop running through a kitchen area.

And why was I thinking of _nuns_ in a casino?

And when Une informed us that my team would be first and that we were going through the back door to infiltrate, I almost busted out laughing.

"Everyone, get ready. We'll be taking civilian cars, no more than three in each car. Only the first two will be within the first block of the building. Each of you will get your assigned seat in a minute. Strike." Duo cocked an eyebrow at her and waited. "You will be in the fifth car, and the four before you will head in without you, so give them good directions before they go in."

I scowled, but it made sense. Heero sometimes seemed to have this sort of radar, and besides, any suspicious people would only be watched and not attacked simply because there was no obvious leader. Without a leader, who's to say they aren't just lost or strange little tourists? There was always someone in the front leading, but a group of people with no real leader could blend.

I nodded and just scowled there in my seat. It made sense. But I still hated it.

It took two bloody freaking hours for everyone to get into position, and by then it was full-blown dark – though you couldn't really bloody well tell because of all the damn lights. The four teams slipped in one after another – a group of two, a group of four, and two groups of three – and separated through the back, some immediately heading up. Our little hacker, who was actually _not_ me this time, was following their progress through the place.

I gave them another minute before Heero sensed something was wrong. Unless he already had.

Then it was my turn to go in, and I did, with two others – a scrawny, freckled dude with hard gray eyes and a guy with surfer hair and a tan that matched the look. I hadn't bothered to learn their names – Freckles and Surfer were good enough.

"Up the stairs," I murmured lowly, and pointed to a set no one had used yet. Of course there had to be three off the dead hallway.

Going up, the entire place shifted from plain and boring to absolutely extravagant. But even up on the second level, the chimes and rings and alarms and shouts and curses could still be heard loud and clear. Giraffe Neck needed to invest in better walls.

Everything was red and gold and covered with tapestries. My two little buddies checked the right hallway for danger while I checked the left. I gently touched my communication link – a brand new one to replace my old piece of shit – and said, "clear." Surfer and Freckles both said the same for their end. Others in the building were calling out similarly.

"Group six," Une said over our link, and I let their reports wash over me until a trigger word shot through.

"Direction?" I queried, and was told to go left. I slipped over to my two cohorts and led them through the hallway. Three doors on each side were supposed to be passed before a four-way intersection would come up. When we got there, my little minions checked left again and I right. "Clear."

"Clear," they told me.

This was just too fucking easy. Where were they? Had we gotten the wrong damn place? But even if we had, surely there would be _some_ security _somewhere_.

"Une, what the fuck?" I demanded softly, and held up a hand for Surfer and Freckles to wait.

"I don't know. Just continue; we'll deal with it when we-"

Then she stopped talking altogether. I waited tensely, straining my ears. Had somethinng happened over on her end.

"Strike."

I jumped a bit at the voice; it wasn't Une's. "Rasid?" I asked, even though I was fairly certain.

"That's right. I'm glad you remember me."

"How couldn't I? You and Quatre were practically attached at the hip."

"Yes. I have been sent here to assist you by Master Quatre."

"Explain," I snapped.

"Master Quatre came here for some rest after recovering from his last ordeal. When he heard of the situation here, he understood that he would be in danger and sent us to help take care of the situation."

I couldn't imagine Quatre actually gambling. I understood it immediately for the cover-up it was. "How far have your men cleaned?" I asked, even as my head tried to wrap around the fact that Quatre was still doing everything he could to help me despite the fact that Trowa was bound and determined to hate my guts.

"We are currently about..." Duo imagined the big man looking over Une's charts. "Ten paces to the right of you. We saw Yuy in-"

"Heero?! Where?" Duo hissed, just barely remembering to keep his voice down.

"In the room just off the right of the turn," the man said, sounding confused. "We believed him to have successfully taken care of Landsing-"

"That's not Heero," Duo snapped. "Freckles, go assist the Maguanacs and inform them of the situation. Surfer, you're coming with me. We'll meet up with Yuy."

"Sir," both murmured.

Rasid cursed. "He is the enemy?"

"Yes."

"Sir, he may very well know of our positions," Surfer said.

"Then we'd better hurry," Duo said lowly, snarling slightly. Hell. Having the Maguanacs was all well and good, but they'd totally blown their cover. But if Heero was this close and the opulent hallways this silent – going off the assumption that they would be this silent no matter what – their cover may well have gotten blown, anyway. Especially with all the gunfire there would have been. I wondered how the Maguanacs had gotten through.

"Let's move. Freckles, get going."

Freckles went out just before we did, keeping low as he ran. We did the same, but we stopped on each side of the door in question while Freckles ran to meet up with the other Maguanacs.

With a nod to each other, we both busted down the door at the exact same instant.

There was another secret elevator, but it looked like we'd just caught Heero and Giraffe-Neck – Landsing – just before they got in and slid away. Heero immediately stepped off and pulled his gun on us.

"Sir, please leave," Heero said, and bashed the wall – the button – and closed the elevator doors before Landsing could offer up agreement or contention. Surfer and I managed to hide behind the wall just in time to avoid becoming swiss cheese.

"Sir," Surfer called to me, "I just thought you should know – it's Shurver, not Surfer."

I wanted to laugh. The guy had actually thought I'd mistaken his last name. But I knew the laughter would morph into something a little bit interesting and swallowed it back. "Understood," I gave him, and he smiled.

"And the other is Xeckler."

What the fuck, man?

"Stay back," I ordered, and threw a grenade, unwilling to try to whole frag launcher when Heero could blow me to pieces before I got it properly launched.

The room blew up predictably.

"Quick, go after that damn elevator," I hissed. "Climb the cables if you have to. Maguanacs," I called through the link, watching... Shurver... slide into the room while the dust hid him. "I need some back-up here; and make sure you secure that damn roof." No more fucking flying off when the shit hits the fan.

I squinted into the room as the dust began to settle. Well, at least one room didn't look like the Taj Mahal anymore. I wasn't surprised to find the room empty, but it did make me fear for Mr. Not-Surfer. "Shurver, status," I hissed, walking into the room.

"Clear," I heard called back, and the man's voice wasn't quite low enough to mean he was only in clear for a little while longer. That meant Heero had found another way out.

I looked at all the broken windows and took an educated guess as to how.

"Goddammit," I muttered, then, "good, Shurver. Stay on course. I'm going after Yuy."

"Roger that."

Shurver. The more I thought about it, the more the name sounded more like sherbet than anything else.

I stepped carefully through the mess, climbing over a couple loose boards and around a few tapestries that looked like they'd seen better days. If they'd been tapestries of war, I would have laughed at the irony.

Then I was to the windows, two hulking masses of now-open space that led to the roof right above this floor. The roof, I remembered, was red, while Heero had been dressed in a new outfit like a black-and-red suit. Almost military, and one that excellently showed off his muscular form. But that, I told myself firmly, was _not_ Heero anymore. And that made my earlier thought just want to whine.

I carefully stretched a broken piece of wood out of the window and just barely let it flick, testing to see if Heero was waiting for pursuit. He wasn't.

Which meant he had an agenda.

And which meant he had all intentions of getting to said agenda before any of us managed to catch up with him.

I scrambled onto the ledge and carefully wiggled out a hand, ready to pull it back in an instant. Still there was no gunshot, or even any noise. Heero, then, was not on the roof immediately above me.

I climbed out and looked around. There were a few bystanders on the ground looking up and pointing at me – apparently the lights of Las Vegas made it easy as hell to see me. Well, if I'd been going for stealth, the jig was up.

"Sir," I heard over the link, and recognized Shurver's voice. He was keeping it down – bad sign. "We're underground. Landsing is here, along with two others. Should we attack?"

"Guards?" I hissed.

"None, sir."

I thought about it for a second, then called for Une.

"Yes, I know." Her voice was low, too, seeming to react to the urgency she and I must have both been feeling. "There's someone else."

"Someone higher than Landsing," I confirmed. "Why else wouldn't Heero be protecting Landsing himself? There's someone else he needs to get to."

"Understood. Shurvey, did you copy this?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then I want you to take those three men. I'll send Maguanacs down to assist you."

A woman from below suddenly screamed so loudly I almost fell off the roof in surprise. Son of a bitch; I'd almost forgotten about the casino below me.

"Keep them there. Strike, get Yuy. No matter what, dead or alive. Understand?"

As if she had to tell me. "No shit?" I sent back to her, and sent a glare in the vague direction of the ground below me. I hoped someone out there saw it; it looked stupid to glare at nothing.

"Strike," she warned.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going."

And I proceeded to do just that.


	7. Pas de Cheval

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Seven

Pas De Cheval

* * *

The woman that had screamed loud enough to almost make me take a freefall off the roof was still going strong, but apparently she was screaming in joy – go figure. I took that to mean that the woman had won something.

But her luck, however it may be or last, wasn't that strong a concern for me. I had to find out where Heero had gone, because he was going to secure the head honcho of this damn group. And that man needed to be killed. And... so did Heero.

Needed to be killed, I mean.

I knew he'd come out of the window, and I was pretty certain he'd gone up, since the idea that the man in charge of Caribol being close to the other execs or whatever was just ridiculous. If they were all in the basement and he wasn't anywhere near them, then he most likely was trapped somewhere far away. Being nearby was stupid – he could have just been in that room with the others and have a billion guards. Hell, just having Heero around would give him enough edge to probably escape with the rest of his little lackeys.

No. He was somewhere else. Somewhere high up. Somewhere that was not in easy reach of their little underground safehouse.

And when I found him, I would find Heero. Or vice versa.

The roof, red as those stupid tapestries, was tapered off at the top, though there was no helicopter waiting to conveniently lift the baddies off. The place still looked like someone could stand up there without too much of a problem at all. Was Heero waiting for me up there?

It was one of those look-it-goes-up-in-a-slant-but-levels-off deals, something that looks cool but is a real bitch to clean. The roof went up in curved metallic tiles that were difficult to be silent on. Those tiles seemed to go up above the flooring on the flat part of the roof, but I imagined that there would be a sort of red tile thing up there, too, but flat, to continue the appearance of classy opulence from a bird's eye view. Climbing up was an exercise in patience and annoyance both in turns; I pitied the poor soul that had to come up and spit shine this thing.

I was careful when I reached the top; I looked over the top of the roof – It looked almost Japanese, but the Japanese would never make a roof this god-awful color – and gazed up quickly before ducking back down. Yup, there were people up there, all right. But who the hell were they?

I had thought one was Heero. That was enough for me to act.

I decided for the surprise option and just leaped up then and there, deciding a grenade would work and just pulling out the pin as I jumped-

I deliberately missed and cried out in alarm.

Quatre and Heero stood on the roof together.

Quatre turned and looked at me in shock, seemingly hardly aware of the gun that Heero had trained on him and a bit more concerned with my sudden appearance and most likely to him unnecessary violence.

Heero reacted rather predictably, of course, turning sideways so that neither Quatre, who was on the opposite end of the roof, nor I was at his back, then turned his gun on me and fired. Quatre shouted then, yelling at Heero, telling him it was only me. Fuck. Wufei and I really should have taken the time to explain just what the situation was.

"Enemy!" I shouted to Quatre, who seemed to absolutely not understand the word whatsoever. I ran over to him, simply throwing my next-to-last grenade just to cause a distraction. Then I caught up the blond and jumped off the opposite side of the roof.

"Duo!" the blond shouted, "what the hell-"

"Not Heero," I panted, then leaped up again, leaving Quatre behind. I was glad to see Trowa in that moment watching us in complete shock but already moving, already reacting. He went to Quatre's side from where he'd waited on this side of the roof and despite everything I felt relief, knowing he would protect Quatre. Then I turned my attention fully to Heero and watched him turn that gun of his on me. I had just enough time to regret the loss of my surprise attack when he fired.

I would say my brilliant dodging skills led to my getting only a clip on the arm, but it was simply because a piece of shrapnel from the stupid red roof paneling blinded him for half a millisecond. Lady Luck must not have hated me, after all.

My own gun was in my hand then, aiming for Heero. I couldn't explain the pain of it. It would be impossible. I didn't hesitate simply because I'd already resolved myself to this situation. But the pain never died, never receded, but only strengthened and morphed itself, taking my peace of mind, my happiness. It constricted my throat and chest and made it hard to breathe. It was all clichéd, all so... it sounded like a bad romance novel. A sci-fi romance, maybe.

But the pain tore through me as strong as ever as I aimed down my barrel and looked at Heero and knew without a doubt that he was gone to me and I was alone and it hurt so _much_ to pull that trigger, even knowing that Heero would dodge.

He did, and to the right, scowling in a way that said he was tired of the interruptions. Obstacles. He'd always hated those.

_I'll always wait,_ I'd told him, even though it was stupid, even though it may very well have been a lie, since I had no intention of waiting _here_, on Earth. I rolled to avoid Heero's counterattack and pulled out my last grenade – _distraction_ – and threw it, not knowing how the hell the bastard managed to not even get his fucking clothes torn when I did it and not letting myself think about whether his clothes were merely some sort of... of mechanical thing, like a hologram – maybe there was nothing left of him that was human, nothing at all but a hologram of skin and eyes – and just _moved_.

I ignored the shrapnel flying pretty much everywhere and got up into Heero's face. It was a startling thought that pulled through my mind as I looked up at him, but my brain went on its tangent anyway and I wondered if Heero's lips were cold now.

But then I just reached up my hand and... and...

And I shot him.

I realized it as soon as I did it, as soon as I heard the squelch and sound of flesh and organs getting ripped apart and the splash of blood and there was _no metal_ and _he was human_.

I think I might have screamed.

I caught him in my arms as he fell, those eyes of his completely unseeing, that beautiful body of his limp. And I just screamed and screamed and screamed.

"Strike! Strike!" I heard Une yell through the link, but I just couldn't think to answer her. I touched Heero's neck with a hand that shook like palsy as his blood fell all over me. For a second I couldn't hear his heartbeat and I just fucking freaked, but then I felt a weak thread of a beat and sobbed in relief.

I didn't know I was chanting his name until Quatre suddenly screamed out _my_ name.

"Help him," I begged, turning to Quatre, desperate, panicked. "Help him, please God help him; I didn't know, I didn't know. Heero. Heero, Heero..."

"Move, Duo," Quatre ordered, and I could tell he was in his own little soldier mode and I backed off immediately, knowing I was useless. I felt Heero's blood all over me; my clothes were absolutely soaked. "Trowa, get in touch with Une right now and tell her we need an ambulance. Duo, what the hell is going on here?!"

My eyes didn't stray from Heero's and I recognized that look of death from when he'd blown himself up. I wasn't screaming anymore, thank goodness, but my head was swimming and I couldn't concentrate on anything but the fact that _I'd killed Heero_ and-

"Report!" Quatre snapped and it made me jump. My mouth moved one hundred percent without my permission. G's training, after all, had been pretty damn grueling.

"Heero had been sent out for recon... mission failure. He hadn't reported back. And then Chang and I had gone in two months later and Heero had shown up and Giraffe-Neck said he was one of his cyborgs but he's _not_, he's obviously not because..." And I just gestured down at Heero's prone form and felt tears – oh shit, they'd been there this whole time, just begging to fall – and they did, right then and there. I didn't let them stop me from standing, from taking my gun and just saying to hell with it. My mission hadn't changed. Kill – and here my mind tripped – kill Heero, then kill Landsing, then kill myself. I altered that just a tiny bit – kill Landsing's _boss_, then kill myself. Fine. Plans needed to be loose enough for improvisation, anyway.

"Please, Quatre, take care of him," I begged. I knew I had no right to even try. "I need to end this." _For both of us_.

Quatre's clear blue eyes shifted for an instant, and I knew he was reading me. "I understand, Duo. Go ahead; we'll take care of things here. Trowa?"

Trowa carefully didn't look at me. "Fine."

I didn't care whether he hated me or not anymore. It was fine – I absolutely, one thousand percent hated myself more than anyone else ever could. "I'm going."

"Take care," Quatre murmured. But he knew I didn't care enough to bother, and he knew he couldn't change that. Not as things were.

I ignored the shouts and messages and curses from the link for only another minute before they just drove me crazy – and I kept hearing 'Agent Yuy' over and over again and it just hurt too much. I took the thing off and broke it. That was the second one I'd broken – Une would no doubt be pissed.

I slid off the roof and simply went for the window right beneath me. The room was empty, but I had expected that. There was probably a hidden room up above, though, one most likely accessed from only one specific room, and most likely hidden. I didn't have the patience to look in each room.

Instead I just shot up into the ceiling in a circle and punched the plaster in. If I'd been in control of my senses, I might have cursed for the pain, because I'm certain something that made my knuckles bleed had to hurt. But I wasn't and I didn't and I just grabbed the ceiling with one hand, carefully aiming my gun with my other hand.

"Zero-one! What the hell took you so long?!" a man shouted.

Zero-one? Like the number? I felt a short, startling burst of fury and levered myself up in a short second, my gun turning to point unerringly in the direction of the voice. I was unsurprised to see a fairly fat man squatting up there in that dusty little room with a ceiling no higher than four feet and staring at me with wide, stubby little eyes and flapping jaws and fat lips, like some sort of old mafia boss or something.

"Wh-Who are you? What are you doing here?!"

Why? Why had Heero been working for this guy? What was it about this man that made Heero want to pretend...

Pretend. I almost choked on it as it came flittering into my mind – of course. Heero had been undercover _because_ of this man – because we hadn't known about him.

God.

"Zero-one!" the man shrieked, panicked.

"Dead," I told him, and took at least some small delight from his look of horrified realization. I saw a gun beside him, lying prone where he'd placed it when he'd stupidly thought I was Heero coming to save him. I wondered if Heero would have just come in here and done exactly what I was going to do.

I nodded to the gun. "Pick that up."

The man jerked in surprise. "Huh?"

This time I jerked my gun over to point to it before steadying it once again on him. I carefully pulled my knee up to hold me as well as my arm and scowled. "Pick it up."

The man managed by sheer force of will to pick it up, and I could've almost given him a couple of brownie points for it but for my utter hatred of him. Almost instinctively he turned it on me and stared in confusion. "N-Now what?"

I shrugged. "Now I kill you." And before he could react, I emptied half a clip into the man's skull. He wouldn't be recognizable to his own mother now.

Then with a small sigh, I rose my gun up just a little bit more until it was resting gently against my temple.

* * *

A/N: NO! Could this be the END?! Pfft. Hey, can anyone list those three references? The first two could be filled in with a variety of things, but not the last. ^^; Yeah, I did make those references... I'm a nerd...

Note: I hate deathfics. But apparently I enjoy torturing you guys. *evil smirk* Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed so far. Obviously this saga is about to end, or at least calm down or something... huzzah... I've been fearing the growth of the cyborg idea and actually begun to fear that Duo is right and this story is becoming a big sci-fi wannabe. Yeah... and sorry it's a bit short. Perhaps done for a reason? *another evil smirk*


	8. The Only Difference Between Martyrdom

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Eight

The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide Is Press Coverage

* * *

It was a relief to feel the cool metal against my head, almost like a wet rag on feverish skin. Or perhaps like a Coke bottle on a sweaty neck. I let it rest there for a moment and took stock of myself.

Was this what I wanted? The quick death, the easy out? Yes, a part of me said instantly, but the rest of me doubted. Maybe I'd asked the question wrong. Was this what I _deserved_? The quick death, the easy way out?

No, I answered, almost as quickly as I had the first. A quick death was the last thing I deserved for... for...

I felt sick. His blood was still on me, on my clothes, on my hands, on my _face_... I was stained with it, irrevocably stained, and I could never wash it away.

His acting had all been just that. I didn't know how he'd managed it, or what had happened to him, or how it'd come to be. All I knew was that he'd been acting and I'd fallen for it and I'd...

Somehow, in my mind it had warped to him believing that I would see, or maybe that I hadn't seen but that I would still trust him enough to not... to not shove a bullet through his ribs. I couldn't imagine what he'd felt that split instant before the impact had really hit him – shock, perhaps, and hurt. Not physical hurt, because of course he'd felt that, but more of the emotional variety, because I couldn't imagine the pain of having Heero kill me.

Of course now I would be thrilled for it. Not only would it mean that Heero was... was conscious, and strong enough to lift a gun, strong enough to kill me, but because it would be a sort of justice. It was only fair to be killed by Heero.

I wept. My arm fell limp and my gun fell to my side and I just... wept.

No. Heero couldn't do it for me. I needed to do it myself, and now more than ever it was imperative to take away any peaceful death that could be available to me.

I had no communication link. There were noises from downstairs – apparently the dinging and chiming of the casino stuff could no longer drown out the sounds of explosions and gunfire. Or maybe Une and her men had stormed through that floor now, too. Were the men in the underground safely officially in custody now? Didn't matter. I would rely on Une to take care of it.

I slipped away from the building with absolutely no more thought to it than that.

* * *

Was it pathetic that I hacked into the hospital's files and waited in an old hotel room, laptop on my knees, to see Heero's name crop up on the screen before thinking of my next step? Heero came in alive, thank every God there was, but he was in critical condition and went straight into surgery. I sent up a prayer to every god I could think of, even ancient ones that no one believed in anymore. And then I begged Shinigami to be content with only my own death, to not want Heero, to let him live.

Then I made a mental list of all the ingredients I would need for my poison of choice.

It was hard to think about that, despite everything, because I just couldn't think past _Heero might still die_. Thinking about myself in any way – hell, thinking about running from the fear, no matter how painful the trip – made me feel like a coward, almost like a heathen. I should suffer through every moment of worry, of fear and concern. I knew, too, that I should go to the hospital. I should be there in the waiting room glaring at the magazines and pacing and just... thinking. But I was at least doing the last two here in my hotel room and, really? The thought that one can help the one they love by waiting nearby was just... stupid.

And I had absolutely no right to be there, anyway.

You know, maybe I'd been lying to himself all along. Maybe I really _am_ a masochist.

Or maybe I was just afraid? Afraid to take that final step?

...So I would wait for Heero, I decided. The end result wouldn't change; I would still kill myself no matter what. But still... still, I just had to know. I had to know whether my mistake had cost Heero his life.

I watched my computer screen as I sat, my eyes never leaving the little note that read 'in surgery,' as if my focus alone could make Heero come out. But even as I thought that, I realized I'd rather have that sign on for hours, for days, than have it turn off and have that little time and date and the words 'unable to save' plastered all over his file.

When I couldn't stand just sitting there anymore, I stood and paced, my eyes flickering over to that screen a thousand times a minute. I prayed some more. Begged some more. Apologized a little and wondered if the gods wouldn't think I was being presumptuous and selfish. Or maybe they were just mocking me with the wait?

Then, when I thought I would absolutely go mad, I sat down in front of my computer again and open up my Word Document and just wrote.

I hadn't done this in a long, long, time; the words were almost painful when they slipped out of me. But still, I managed one more poem for him, a sort of apology, though at the time I wrote it I had no idea that I would be apologizing to anyone.

_I have torn your wings_, I wrote, then,

-

I have torn your wings.

I stole the bounty from the harvest,

Stole the hope from duty's hardest

Branches broken from my mighty swings.

-

I have torn your wings.

So desperate for you to stay with me,

A man unable to be free,

Furious token of my love's aimings.

-

I have torn your wings.

My broken wings stole from me flight,

And so I cursed the skies each night

And all those who would sing.

-

I have torn your wings.

But now that you lie bleeding,

I can see what I'd been feeling

Dying lonely, purest king.

-

I have torn your wings,

And in such I have been stained,

Irrevoc'bly shamed,

Bearing burdens my abhorrent sinning brings.

-

Then without thought I segued straight into reciting all of the poems on my Wing, starting with "Forgive These Broken Wings of Mine" and ending with "Poisoned Lies." Then, on more of a hope than a whim, I typed, _dedicated to_ and wrote another poem before closing up the document.

Then, as I hadn't allowed myself during the long process, I looked at Heero's file. I almost sobbed when I saw _out of surgery_ followed immediately by _stable_.

I had to leave the bed for fear my tears might mess up my computer.

I couldn't have read past those words then, not with the way my vision blurred all over the place. I hadn't killed him. He was stable. Count on Heero. But then I just barely had the sense to move my laptop a good ways away from the bed before I just collapsed on it and let myself, possibly for the first time in my life, to just indulge in the tears for... gods, it must have been at least fifteen minutes of just... sobbing.

I hadn't killed him.

It was like a mobius strip in my head, over and over again – I hadn't killed him. I hadn't killed him. Heero was alive.

I was an interesting little mess when I finally got myself under control again all those minutes later. I had snot dribbling down my nose and my eyes were so puffy they felt like they'd both been punched, and I knew they were red and bloodshot as all hell. I could only imagine how special I looked. I carefully didn't look in the wall-to-wall mirror in the hotel bathroom as I got my sorry self cleaned up.

Okay. I could no longer hide behind Heero's uncertain well-being to avoid what I needed to do. So I just rolled my shoulders and headed out.

I knew by now someone would be looking for me, trying to inform me of Heero's condition. If they were astute – or if Wufei were conscious – they would get a stab in the dark as to what I was planning. I'd signed into this hotel under a false name, but my description wasn't exactly what one would call nondescript. In other words, I didn't have that much time to do my little deed. I sighed. If anything, I should probably sign out and snatch the shit I needed while going somewhere else.

That decided, I turned in my keys and got my ass moving.

For the little kiddies' sake, I shall refrain from mentioning the contents needed to make strychnine (1). I would merely say that it took some time and a couple interesting stops in some little back-alleys. These, of course, occurred come nighttime. Then all night I drove off to the West, thinking it stupidly symbolic – and further away from home, which was over to the East. Home. Ha. Right.

I carefully skirted around that mental topic and just drove. I didn't indulge in music for once, too afraid of potential lyrics. I couldn't say how many topics I ended up shoving from my mind – homes and houses, friends, lyrics, the war, Wufei, dragons, and anything and everything even remotely blue. But then I found those last moments with Heero and just let them replay in my mind, even as I cringed and winced and... let no man ever learn of this... teared up.

It was my focus. It was my reason for acting this way. Not only had I... had I tried to kill him – I forced myself to think the words, to link them together that way – but I'd killed him for no good reason. A part of me wanted to point out that, at the time, I'd fully believed that there _was_ a good reason... but... I just couldn't try to rationalize those dead eyes.

The sudden onslaught of tears was humiliating and sharp. I blinked them away and concentrated on th road. It was almost morning, almost time for a new dawn. I suddenly wanted very badly to find out how Heero was doing. Was he still stable, or had he developed an infection during the night? The skeleton staff at the hospital was good, but they just couldn't hold a candle to the daytime staff. Had he made it through all right?

With all of my ingredients, I had nothing to worry about except the problem of a hotel room. I solved that in a matter of fifteen more minutes. I had no idea why an inn was named 'The Days Inn.' I'd always wondered about it; did the name mean the inn was owned by the day, or that the inn was open for only days and not nights? Literally, the name made no sense.

The room, when I entered with my bag-o-drug-wannabe, was about as nondescript as I was not. Two beds – an almost painful reminder of my... of what I'd done – and a bathroom off the very front of the room, then a lounge-type area with a tiny nightstand-ish table and two chairs and a balcony that was probably about as used as the little lounge area.

I took the time to put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door – I'd borrowed the room for two days, just in case – and carefully ripped down the shower and used some nails I'd belatedly bought to stick up the shower curtain to hide off the bedroom-and-lounge part of the room. Then I took out a big sheaf of paper – also belatedly bought, along with the marker and tape – and wrote on the paper, _I have committed suicide. Please don't look beyond this curtain. Just call the police and stay out of the room. Thank you._

No matter what I did, the note would sound presumptuous and tacky. I sighed. Well, it was the best I could do.

I couldn't help it; I had to click in my computer and log in to the hotel's wireless internet and hack once more into Heero's files.

Still stable.

He hadn't woken up yet, but that was all right. Sleeping off the painkillers and post-surgery drugs was a good thing. Knowing he was still safe made it possible to move to the bathroom – internet still carefully monitoring Heero's progress – and set up my fix-a-poison.

It took a number of hours, and I was really starting to feel the fatigue of a night's lack of sleep, when I finally finished. I let it sit as it needed to and checked Heero's progress one more time – no change – before going to sleep.

I woke up no more than an hour later and went straight to the bathroom. My little slip of nux vomica didn't look that different from a normal drink, even though there was only a little bit there in one of those look-we-give-you-coffee-and-coffee-cups things that the hotel always left for you in the bathroom (next to the sink; way to go, people). I filled a second cup with water and dumped the strychnine inside that, carefully swoshing the liquid as I returned to the bed. My stomach was clamping up just _thinking_ about drinking this. I knew very well that I was going to be hurting myself very, very badly.

Just for the record, maybe I should explain a few things that Mr. Layman wouldn't understand. Let's start with some basic information on strychnine. It works fast – about three hours once the symptoms hit, which may take up to a couple of hours to occur. These symptoms are roughly based around the harsh constriction of muscles that forces one's body to bend and twist in unnatural positions, all the while feeling intense pain. These bouts of muscle spasming would some and go, and when they left one would feel tired and dehydrated but mostly well-off. Then the constricting would begin anew, last longer, hurt more, and cause more damage. This would occur until death, which would happen while the victim lie conscious. I would die well aware of how I'd stupidly put myself in the position I would be in. And, due to the constriction of muscles, I may very well die smiling like the Joker or something.

Now let's discuss possible saves. In other words, the likelihood of me surviving this stupidity. Once the constricting starts, I will not be able to get myself to a hospital. I would not be able to drive; I would hardly be able to get my pain-wearied body turned over to grab the phone and demand nine-one-one... I took the chance to unhook the phone then, just in case I was tempted to try, anyway. However, if someone happened across me within the first hour or so of my constrictions, I could potentially be saved. Note, of course, that I had asked for the room for two days – no chance to be found by a well-wishing maid until long after that time period was up.

Finally, let's discuss G. My favorite codger in the world – pfft. He'd trained me like a dog, made me physically stronger and faster than most humans. I would also like to mention that he immunized me as much as possible against certain drugs and some poisons. It would have been impossible, of course, to immunize me against strychnine completely. But the bastard _had_ trained me to at least survive longer. So though the average time between start of constrictions and death was three hours, for me it would be four. For once, I was very much unhappy with the results of this particular training. I would be in agony that much longer.

So, information now in hand, you could potentially see why I was a bit reluctant to use this on myself.

Even the picture of Heero's blank, suddenly to my eyes shocked face didn't take away the nausea roiling around in my stomach.

"I love you," I told that image, then clenched my eyes shut and just gulped the drink down.

* * *

(1) Or you could say that the author has absolutely no bloody clue.


	9. We're So Starving

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Nine

We're So Starving

* * *

The taste was practically like any other water. Maybe it would have been the same if I hadn't known I was drinking something more. I placed the cup carefully on the nightstand and got off the bed and onto the floor – on the bed and writhing wouldn't be very good, though I suppose the end result would make the effort moot – and stretched out straight. It would take a little while for this to kick in, and maybe that was good.

I regretted my actions already, and the pain hadn't even started. I felt fear twisting and clawing at my gut. I'd never really tried to kill myself before. I wondered how much it would hurt. I wondered if I could regulate my breathing, and tried. Then when I started wondering if I was fucking stupid, I saw that last moment when I'd pulled that trigger and tried to not let my fear get me running down the hall and begging for someone to call a hospital.

I don't know exactly how long it took – my mind wanted to say just over three hours – for me to start feeling restless, wanting to move. I recognized it as the first symptom and just rode it out, tensing despite myself. Then training kicked in and I was limp on the floor, my body automatically defending against the spread of the poison.

Only a few minutes later, however, I felt the restlessness morph into desperation. It felt like my airway was clogged, and each breath felt like it was being squeezed in through a straw. Soon the convulsions would begin. I closed my eyes and tried to ready myself as much as possible. I'd heard Hilde explain getting her eyebrows waxed once, and couldn't help but link it to that – to the body's tensing at the thought of the pain, and of the will that dampens the desire to tense until it's merely a desire, until the brows are limp due only to the force of the mind. And then the wax paper would be put on the brow and ripped off, and the pain would make you jump even though you'd been expecting it.

I would say that last part was similar, too, but I didn't get the chance to jump.

It would be impossible to correctly describe the feeling of one's muscles spasming without one's permission. My face muscles pulled first, giving me a wide grin, pulling my muscles like they were tied to oxen. The pain didn't shock me so much as the effect – the knowledge that I probably looked like I'd been gassed by the Joker's crazy poison spray, left with a grin that spoke of madness. My eyelids were torn open for me to gape at the ceiling as my muscles constricted and ripped and then thrust me onto my head and toes and the rest of me just popped up into the air.

If acid could pull and stretch and manipulate muscles, I would say that this was all being done by hydrochloric acid – no, worse than that. And I could feel _other_ muscles being twisted and ripped apart and squeezed. Not many think about it, but really? Organs are muscles, too.

My jaw locked into place and wouldn't move for anything, and then I bowed forward, my legs lifting up off the ground so that I balanced mostly on my tailbone before falling to my side. If my jaw hadn't been locked, I would have screamed. My eyes, I knew, were almost wide enough to have the orbs pop out of my skull.

I was infinitely glad I couldn't make any sounds when I heard movement outside the door, coming from the hallway. It was almost amazing that I managed to hear it, to have the information sink into my brain.

Then I was pulled into a circle, my neck bending backwards so quickly I thought for a second it would break my spine, and I couldn't care less what some asshole was doing in the hallway.

This had been a bad idea.

And when the spasming stopped, it was with a sudden and immediate halt that had me collapsing to the floor, my entire body shaking in the aftereffects. Jesus.

I knew what was going to happen now. I knew it was a sort of 'eye in the storm' type of deal, that the clenching agony would return. But for now, all that touched me were a bone-weary tiredness and the desire to drink about a gallon of water. I ignored both needs – if I gave in and took a drink, it would only hurt more and make the agony last longer. Trying to help myself would be a pathetic waste of time and resources.

And that would be about the time I heard the outrageously loud pounding on the hotel door.

Well fuck.

"Duo!" I heard Quatre scream, and I wanted to run away – like I'd get far. I heard another voice, low and mumbled, then Quatre again, snapping now. "Give me the key – give it to me or I'll fucking shoot you."

And he must've had that 'Zero' look on his face or something because damned if the man didn't slip the key in that next second. I heard him storm in with a kind of wearied resignation. My luck just fucking sucked.

Or maybe... maybe it was like when Deathscythe had refused to blow us both up, and it was supposed to be good luck?

Or maybe it was God's sick sense of humor. Bastard.

A strangled little half-scream told me Quatre's successfully read my note, and then a tearing sound of the curtain being forcefully ripped away from the hall. "Duo!" he screamed. "Duo – oh Allah no, no..."

I could just imagine the horrified look on his face, his hands over his mouth and those baby blue eyes wide. "I'm still alive," I told him. My voice was raw. I carefully kept my eyes on the ceiling, knowing they were still wide as saucers.

He wasted no time in pouncing to my side and kneeling down, checking me over for wounds. "Where...?" he asked, then stopped, seeming to understand that I hadn't made any outwardly visible wounds. "What?" he breathed.

I opened my mouth to tell him when I saw a very, very tall presence loom suddenly on Quatre's left. I sighed. "Hi, Tro... Trowa."

"Duo."

Uber, flaming pissed. Well fine. "Love you too, man," I said without thinking. Some unknown voice made a choking sound. I figured that to be the poor sap who'd had his key taken from him. I wondered if the sign could be seen anymore. "Maybe you should leave," I called to the man I couldn't see.

"Yes. You should leave," Quatre said quietly, but he didn't look at the man, either. "Trowa, please-"

"Already on it," he said, voice quick and cool.

"He's still okay?" I had to ask, had to know. It was imperative that I know.

"Yes," Quatre said firmly, and he picked up my hand. "Duo, I need to know what you... what you..."

I sighed and pulled my hand from his. I could feel a quick wave of pain spiking up my spine. And just like that, my jaw once again locked into place.

My eyes widened just as I body tore into an interesting little 'S' shape, and I very distinctly heard Quatre cry out in a voice laden with despair. Even Trowa cursed, and very perfunctorily. But then my stomach hardened to rock and I forgot, for a while, to care about what they were doing.

The next thing I knew, Quatre was on his hands and knees beside me crying, half-ordering me not to give up, that Heero would cry, that it would be all my fault if he did and did I want that? It almost made me laugh; just forty-eight hours ago, I wouldn't have thought Heero capable of crying anymore.

And then there was a fucking horde of voices – how much time had passed? I was still convulsing on the floor like a fish out of water, and I could only think _humiliating_ before I felt hands on me and someone trying to soothe me and someone else trying to _do _something; Quatre, who at some point had begun putting wet cloths to my skin, took them away now and begged me to last long enough, to not have the poison too deep in my system that it couldn't be flushed out.

And slowly my body began to un-tense, just as it had before, but this time it took a bit longer for the throes to let me loose; they would return much quicker now. Still, with G's training, Quatre'd had plenty of time to get some help for me. I wasn't that surprised; count on Quatre to find me.

As soon as I stopped bouncing around like a dying turkey, I was lifted onto a gurney and carried out of the hotel room – oh yeah definitely humiliating – and put into the back of an ambulance. I wasn't surprised to see Quatre's blond head following after me, but I was to see Trowa's torso trailing after him. But maybe he just didn't want Quatre alone. Both for his physical safety... and his emotional safety.

"Sorry for being selfish," I told him when I was sure my jaw would let me.

Quatre's tears were still running a mile a minute. I felt like such a bastard. That was one good thing about being successful – you may have been selfish, but you didn't have to deal with the consequences of it. "Don't be stupid," he sobbed out. "I don't... care about that." And he placed his head onto my little make-shift bed and just cried away.

Wincing at the sight, I turned to Trowa. "How did you...?"

"Wufei told us," Trowa said shortly, "as soon as he woke up. When we'd told him what happened, he'd told us you would commit suicide and that we had to find you immediately. You weren't at home. Quatre understood that you would need to check on Heero's progress and set up a security device through the files. That led us to you."

I sighed. "Yeah. I had to know." I left it at that.

It was then that the next stage of contractions lifted me almost off of the stretcher, and only Quatre's hands kept me from falling over. I knew my rigor mortis-like grin was back in place because my face felt like melted metal was boiling on its surface, holding it in place and blistering it all at the same time.

"Hold on, Duo! We're getting you to the hospital; they've already given you a general anti-poison, it should slow the strychnine down, so just hold on, okay?!"

I wished, then, that I hadn't given myself a poison that rendered it impossible for me to talk. Otherwise, I would have tried to console him in some way. Or tell Trowa to just get him out of there. Or something.

I went into an acrobatic contortionist thing and lost my ability to decode what I was hearing. I thought I heard the medic talking to Quatre, and then Quatre snapping back at him. Then, as my body flipped in a one-eighty stretch, I heard Trowa say, "he lives or you die." I wondered why he said it, and if he meant it.

Then Quatre was either ignoring the medic or had already effectively chewed his ass out, because he was telling me to hold on again. It was around then that I felt, quite sharply and very distinctly, the feel of my stomach hardening to stone. I wished I could scream.

"Hold on!" he screamed, then he was screaming some more and I knew he was venting on the poor medic, all Zero-mode and creepy on him, then he was crying and Trowa said something soft, but it was a little menacing, so I figured he was either talking to the medic or to me.

My stomach felt like it was rock, pressing against several other rocks and just grating, grating against each other, rubbing back and forth on my other organs until they were chipping away at each other slowly, slowly, little rock-flakes dribbling into my bloodstream and cutting my arteries and veins. And through it all, I had no choice but to look up at the top of that ambulance and grin like a fool.

I'd underestimated the pain. Unbearable wasn't true; I had no choice but to bear with it. Unendurable wasn't true, because so far my body had endured. It wouldn't forever, obviously-

My body flipped into a circle again, but this time I distinctly felt my lungs and heart pressed to the edge of my rib cage and suddenly remembered how the victim of strychnine poisoning died – the respiratory tract failed, turning to stone just like my digestive tract and I wouldn't be able to breathe and I would die because my lungs wouldn't work. I could feel them getting to that point. I could _feel_ it.

"We're here!" Quatre sobbed in relief, and I felt myself being wheeled out of the ambulance. Thank God the drug was letting me go again, letting me get my short break before I died. And the next one would kill me. I knew it as surely as I knew the ingredients of strychnine.

My body calmed down as they wheeled me in. "Quatre," I said tiredly, and immediately grabbed his attention. He was, after all, wheeling me in with the rest of them, his hands right by my head.

"Duo?" He seemed to understand that I only had something important to say; otherwise why would I waste my breath?

I sighed, a sound almost lost beneath the shouts for various medical apparati. "You'll have to overdose me. A lot."

He touched my cheek, not slowing down the process to... where were we going? Well, not slowing down. "We'll save you, Duo."

"Heero," I breathed, and felt fear make my exhausted heart test its cage once more.

And again, Quatre seemed to understand. "He's stable, Duo."

"Don't lie," Trowa muttered. "He's in a coma."

...what?

"Trowa!" Quatre snapped, turning to his lover with blazing baby eyes. "You shouldn't say..." But then Quatre's eyes locked with mine and widened so much they were stricken. "Shouldn't say that," he whispered finally, as if he was obligated to finish the sentence but couldn't care less anymore.

For a second I thought the next flash had started, because I couldn't move and I felt how wide my eyes were and the pain was overwhelming me – but then I realized that the pain was different, that it wasn't my muscles that were screaming but my heart, and that it was... "since...?"

"We got the call from Wufei just before we arrived at the hotel," Trowa told me, his eyes hard. As if saying that hearing this news was only fair, considering what I'd done. He was right. "He slipped into a coma. I wonder... was it because he heard Wufei yelling at us?" His eyes glinted. "That he heard what you'd most likely done because of him?"

"No, not because-" But I was wheeled into a room then and couldn't tell Trowa the important thing, that it was because of my own stupidity and not because of Heero at all, to beg him to tell Heero that...

No. No. Heero couldn't die. He couldn't die. Not because of me. Please. No.

"Give him five times the normal amount?!" I heard one doctor shout, and realized that Quatre was sending alone my message. Fuck. I'd gone with the flow because of his tears and now...

I tuned out the nurses' shouts and just... floated. I felt the next pour of metal on my face and welcomed, for once, the indescribable agony that forced me to pull my thoughts to it, that didn't allow me to wallow in sorrow, that didn't give me the time to do such things.

"Heero," I whispered, and felt my jaw clench up as usual, but this time I thoughts my gums were trying to wrench my teeth out out my mouth. I could hear the shouts become louder, and I knew that they knew just what my chances of survival were.

Did I want to live? Did I want to survive? If Heero had slipped into a coma... but no, for Heero that was probably a way to recover faster...

...right?

Did I _want_ to fight this? I'd asked for it myself, after all. Did I _want_ to make it through this? I should... it was only fair that I, who had tried to kill...

_Heero_.

_I'm... sorry_.

If I could have, I would have closed my eyes and sighed. I felt the doctors swarming around me, grabbing me as I twisted, until I'd stilled long enough that they were able to stick a needle into my arm and squirt what felt to be gallons of liquid into me; if I'd been able to control my body, the suddenness of the movement would have instinctively made me lash out.

Heero. Heero. What should I do? I know... Heero would want me to live. I know that... I'd known that. Was it my duty to live, to suffer through life, because of what I'd done? In the end... after years and years of walking through life every day... wouldn't that be worse than the few hours of torture I'd put myself through?

Ha. Maybe this line of thinking had formed simply because, for once in my life, I feared what I would find on the other side.

I didn't want to wake up over there and find myself separated from Heero for eternity. Just because I didn't have wings that could fly.

Yeah. And if the strychnine hadn't already formed a misshapen grin on my face, I would have leered at myself. Despite Heero's own sins, I couldn't help but see him as an angel. My... angel? Did I still have the right to call him mine?

I think that was about the time I realized that I did indeed have the ability to think about things that the pain should have drawn me away from. The antidote was starting to work.

I was going to live.

Well... fuck.

Fine, then. I would survive my own stupidity and would return to the stars. Eh. Whatever. Maybe I was just some sort of masochistic martyr or something. What was the word I'd heard once? Oh, yeah. Emo. Maybe I was emo.

_Heero_. It would only serve me right, I supposed, to have Heero die.

Since... since I'd tried to take the easy way out.

* * *

Note: I know very well that if you have the first contraction or two and don't get help by then, you are dead. However, we are in the beginning of the twenty-first century, and they are at least 300 years ahead of us – that means 300 more years of medicinal education. And Duo Maxwell was trained to survive being poisoned for as long as possible, or at least I damn well hope so, because I don't want to imagine that G was that scatterbrained. So there's my reasoning as to how, despite how long the poison had been in his system, he still somehow miraculously survived. That... and I don't freakin' write death fics. They're depressing. If I wanted real life, I'd watch the news. Which I don't. So there. P

Extra Note: To everyone who's reviewed, read, or otherwise acknowledged the existence of my stories, I very humbly thank you. ...But especially to those who've reviewed. OMG, it makes my day. ^_^


	10. Build God, Then We'll Talk

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Ten

Build God, Then We'll Talk

* * *

"Please, Quatre, I'm begging you."

The incessant beeping and clacking and hushed hospital noises were driving me off the wall. I'd been hearing them for the past thirty-seven hours – okay, so I'd been unconscious for most of those, minor detail – and I had yet to be allowed out of this god-forsaken bed.

"Duo, you aren't ready," Quatre told me, for most likely the billionth time.

"Stop whining," Trowa said from behind him. "You put yourself into this situation."

I glared at him, unable to accept such words when I had _yet_ to see Heero. Who was still struggling against a coma. And may never wake up.

My heart did some interesting things at that knowledge.

"Is Maxwell still whining?" Wufei asked, wheeling himself into the room with a look of annoyance. I'd thought more than once to ask him if he was supposed to be wheeling himself around, but I figured I shouldn't butt in on a subject I had no right to talk about.

"Yes," Trowa immediately harrumphed.

"Maxwell, you dick. I don't want to hear a word of it."

Wufei, by the way, had been pissy ever since I'd woken up. Something about my trying to kill myself and how it was absolutely unforgivable. At least until I was well again. Or something.

"Wufei, I need to see Heero," I said, though I knew it was a stupid, selfish request.

"No."

I scowled. "Look, I'm the stupid bastard who shot him-"

"And then tried to kill himself," Wufei cut in, finishing the sentence.

"Fine. I'm the stupid bastard that shot Heero Yuy and then tried to kill himself, and I want to fucking see him."

"No," Wufei said again. "The doctors say he went into shock when he heard the news and that he needs all the rest he can get."

I winced at the reminder. Not only had I shot the man I loved, but when he'd overheard Wufei screaming to Quatre that I would kill myself, he'd apparently freaked out, which had upset his injury, which had in turn almost killed him. So he'd slipped into a coma solely in order to preserve his life.

"I need to see him," I said again. "I'll be good. I'll just look at him and then I'll leave. I won't make any noise. Come on, Wufei, you know I would never..." I winced again; honestly, there was no way someone could know I wouldn't hurt Heero willingly. Not after all of this.

Wufei sighed, but it sounded more aggravated than anything else. It was Quatre who stepped forward. "All right," he said quietly.

"Winner!"

"Quatre!" Trowa hissed.

Quatre turned on them both. "How would you feel, Trowa, if it were me?!" he demanded. "Because if it were you, and all of this had happened because you'd played your part a bit _too_ well... I'd want to do the same as Duo! I wouldn't..."

Well, at least it shut the two of them up.

"Come on, Duo. If you can sit up in the bed, I'll go and get a wheelchair for you."

"Thank you, Quatre," I said as sincerely as I possibly could, and just sat the hell up, ignoring the pain in my joints and muscles. I'd pulled several of them, and it would take weeks to fully heal, but in the end I'd been saved.

Enter sigh here.

Wufei and Trowa glared at me from their little spots in the room, so I very carefully avoided eye contact. I'd already told the both of them that they could hate me to their hearts' content. I deserved that and more, after all.

It was a few minutes later that Quatre came in with a doctor, a wheelchair before him. And though I said I could handle the transfer on my own, Quatre still carefully moved me to the wheelchair and deposited me safely down. It was amazing just how much said transfer hurt.

"Duo, I have to warn you," Quatre said, leaning down to speak into my ear as he wheeled me out of the room, "he doesn't look too good."

I'd already told myself that, but hearing it was like a stab to the chest.

But my worst fears didn't quite stack up. When Quatre had successfully gotten my through the elevator and past the hallways and finally opened that door, the sight that greeted me was...

Heero was a lump on the bed, a very pale, very quiet lump. One with tubes that looked like tentacles splayed all over and around him, and that beeping sound somehow made the humming of the machinery louder, more ominous. His IV bag swayed on its pole. His eyes seemed almost sunken into his face.

"Oh God," I moaned, and leaned forward as if to stand on my own. Quatre hurriedly pushed me to the side of the bed.

Closer, it looked even worse. If I couldn't hear his heartbeat through every beep, I'd think he was dead. His chest hardly rose or fell. He looked... dead. Pale and dead. He didn't even smell like Heero, all dosed up on drugs and trapped in the smell of antiseptics.

"Heero," I whispered. "I'm so sorry. I..." But how could you apologize for what I'd done? What could you possibly say to take away... to take away the scars I'd given him? "I won't do it," I said. "I won't try to hurt myself again. I won't hurt _you_ again. Heero..." I forgot Quatre was there; that was the only excuse I had for letting myself lean on that railing and sobbing like a child.

"Duo." Quatre's voice was quiet, pained.

I flinched and quickly dried my eyes. Hell. I could remember the days when I never freaking cried; now I felt like every minute I was awake, my eyes would want to just tear right the hell up.

"It's my fault," I said, my voice hardly more than a breath. I'd sworn not to bother Heero; if nothing else, I had to at least keep _that_ promise.

"Duo, you couldn't have known."

No, that was true enough. There was no way I could have known – Heero had played his part brilliantly. But still, that didn't change the fact that my gun and my bullet had torn apart Heero's organs, even to the point where they had ended up just picking out pieces of them from inside his body. It was a miracle Heero survived the surgery.

"I shouldn't have..." I clenched the railing so tightly I feared for a moment I would bend it. "I should have known Heero would... and then I tried to...! I didn't even think about how he would feel about it! I just thought of myself – of how much _I_ was hurting! Heero!"

And I just said fuck it and started crying again.

Quatre was silent. There was nothing he could say.

"Heero, I'm sorry! I'll do everything I can, anything you ask, I swear, just please wake up."

I was not expecting a reply. I hadn't expected a twitch of a hand or a groan or anything clichéd or soap opera-ish as all that. That is not to say that I wasn't devastated when I was wheeled out and there was absolutely no change whatsoever.

I was very silent on the way back, keeping my lips firmly sealed. Only when my eyes had dried and my shoulders had stilled had Quatre silently pulled me away from that bed. Like a child I almost grabbed onto the railing, but I let myself be taken away. It would be stupid to grab onto something I myself had thrown away.

"Thanks for this, Qat," I murmured when the elevator doors opened and we stepped back onto my floor.

"It wasn't a problem," Quatre said, and I think his voice was soft in deference to my own.

Trowa and Wufei were still there in my room when Quatre brought me in, both oddly quiet, as well. Quatre wordlessly helped me back into bed while Wufei and Trowa watched, then tucked me in. "Now rest," Quatre said softly. "All that must have worn you out."

I silently thanked him for keeping quiet about my little breakdown. Quatre just closed up the portable wheelchair and leaned it against the wall. When he saw me watching him, he cocked an eyebrow. I obediently shut my eyes.

It was odd; I hadn't really been paying attention to it, but once I was back in my hospital bed, all I could think about was the horrible ache all over my body. My muscles had been stretched too far and had ripped like string cheese, and my joints had been tested so often they'd actually weakened in some areas. The doctors had had a pretty little time patching me up. Thankfully I'd been in la-la land during their hard work.

And apparently even just sitting up had tested the limits of my capabilities. Agh. I was back to recuperating. It was getting old.

But I would take it and more if Heero would just...

Damn. And now I sounded like a martyr. And considering it was me who put the both of us in this situation, acting as a martyr just didn't seem quite right.

"Heero," I tried, simply moving my lips more than actually speaking. _I take it back. I take it all back._ Heero. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry...

* * *

"Duo. Duo, wake up."

My shoulder was shaken. I grumbled and swatted the hand away.

Heero chuckled at me. "Duo, seriously. Get up. You have your doctor's appointment-"

I jumped up and grabbed Heero's shoulders and looked straight into his cobalt eyes. Was this real? Was this really happening? "Are you... real?"

"Duo? Are you okay?" He touched his hands on my shoulders, a gentle thing. "Did you have a nightmare?"

A nightmare. I felt almost giddy. A nightmare? Had it really been?

I laughed. "Maybe," I told him. "Or maybe this is a dream?"

But instead of going mother-hen concerned on me, he simply smiled. Yes. Definitely a dream. "If this _were_ a dream," Heero asked me, as if there was a chance in hell that it wasn't, "what would you want me to do?"

I already had the answer in my hands. A simple one. The perfect one.

I laughed again as I kissed him.

It was a simple matter for him to push me back, to place my head on the pillow beneath me and kiss me in earnest. I pulled him down on top of me, and he pressed our bodies together.

It was warm. So warm it almost burned me. Then his hands were on me, cupping my cheeks, running down my neck. Warm. His hands were warm.

"Heero," I whispered when he released my lips.

"Hmm?" He slipped down my skin, latched onto my pulse. I jerked up at the electric shock of it, at the crashing wave that slipped up and down my body, flushing my mind of everything but Heero's tongue on my neck and fingers on my chest, teasing me, making me gasp.

"Heero," I repeated. "Heero, I love you."

Heero chuckled. "What's this all of a sudden?"

"Because you won't wake up," I told him, even as I grabbed his hair and freaking lurched up on the bed. "No matter how much I called for you. Because I killed you."

"What are you talking about?" His hands were tugging at my shirt, and with a sigh I raised my arms and let him slip the garment off.

"I love you," I said again, letting it slide, and made a strange little noise when his teeth carefully bit down on my nipple. The shock this time made my back arch like a bow.

Once he was finally done his little administrations, he looked back up at me, those deep blue eyes of his deadly serious. "I love you, too, Duo. Forever."

I woke up just as he began kissing me again.

It wasn't surprising, but somehow the pain of it still choked me. I was alone in the room now; it was night, and I'd slept through whatever interesting discussion Quatre and Trowa and Wufei had had. I was alone.

I was alone because I'd made myself alone.

The pillow was the perfect muffler, and once again I found myself using one, only this time on myself. I shook with sobs until I just had nothing left in me, nothing but the pain in my body from bouncing around and shuddering, and I accepted the pain with a sigh and carefully let myself go back to sleep, making sure it was only a half-sleep and that I would wake up before I dreamed.

* * *

Because of my tendency to wake up just as I was about to drift into a deep sleep, I'd had an interestingly long night. A doctor came in all bright and chipper for his morning routine and checked up on me. He said I looked like I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, and did I want any medication for it? I just told him I was worried about my friend and I didn't need any pills. When he let it go, I figured the news had traveled. It always seemed to in hospitals.

Then I had a nurse come in to test my muscles and check their healing progress, which even _I_ could tell was minimal, and then she helped me exercise my joints. Oh joy, oh bliss.

So I was hurting like a bitch when Quatre and Trowa returned.

I was kind of surprised that Trowa _let_ Quatre come see me – before, he'd seen my existence alone as taboo. But there they were, Trowa taking his usual place against the wall, arms crossed and one visible eye staring steadily at me. Like a bodyguard. I almost laughed at the thought.

"Duo? How are you?"

Quatre came right up to the side of my bed. I sent him a tired smile to let him know I caught the subtle reference to my bawling up a storm yesterday. "Better," I told him. Then on a whim I snaked out my Jester's smile and nodded over to Trowa. Dammit, I wanted to _know_. I was curious as hell. "So how come your leash got longer?"

Quatre seemed to flinch for a short second before tensing up and sending a careful look to Trowa. I just lifted an eyebrow. The taller man looked wicked pissed.

"I told him," Quatre said carefully, "that if he kept it up, I'd... kick him out."

I felt the promise of death as soon as I started laughing.

"Duo?" Quatre sounded almost distressed. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, Qat!" I randomly grabbed his shoulder and clutched at my stomach – freaking _ow_ – as I tried to calm myself down. "Qat, that's hilarious! I never would've imagined you telling Trowa to fuck off, even nicely! Oh my God, how'd he take it?" In my humor, I had completely neglected the fact that said _he_ was currently in the room, clenching his arms so tight it was probably cutting off his circulation.

Quatre seemed, however, to relax and even pulled up a chair. "Do you remember that last time I visited you, and how Trowa had arrived and had me leave?"

I nodded, my smile slipping a fraction. I very well remembered it.

"Well," and here Quatre blushed cutely, "we got into an argument almost immediately. I... was angry, because I wasn't allowed to see you, and you're my best friend."

Ah, shit. Hello guilt.

"Same," I mumbled, looking over at the wall.

"I know." Quatre beamed that smile of his at me and leaned in conspiratorially. I flicked a glance at Trowa, but Quatre only stage-whispered. "I kind of told him just what you said."

"Huh?" It took a second, but then I was laughing all over again. "No _way_! You seriously _said_ it? The 'f' word? _You?!_ Oh my God, say it now!"

Quatre backed away, blushing furiously. "No."

"Come ooonn," I wheedled. "Come on come on come ooonn." I grabbed his arm and pulled it.

"No," he repeated, but he seemed to be having a hard time not laughing. "I'm not angry enough."

"Aaaagh. Trowa!" I called, "call me an asshole. Say I'm a dick."

"Duo!" Quatre admonished.

"I wanna heeeaar. You _never_ say shit like that. Please? Pretty please?"

"Glad to see you've recovered," Trowa said sarcastically.

All things stopped.

Quatre and I both gaped at the man. His hands were no longer clenched, though they were still crossed over his chest. And his body wasn't tensed to spring, though he'd always remained leaning back against the wall.

I think my mouth dropped open.

Um, where was the hostility?

"Quatre, out."

The order was not rude, just kind of... ordered. Like Heero when he always told me to eat and to eat everything, dammit, or he'd shove it in my mouth and choke me with it until I swallowed.

Ow. Best not to think about Heero.

Quatre seemed about as stunned as I was, because he stood very, very slowly. "Trowa?"

"Out," the man said firmly, but his eye never left mine, and finally Quatre turned to me and promised... something – food? Maybe food – before he carefully left my room. Though Quatre _did_ leave the hospital door wide open, a sort of warning, most likely, to his lover.

Trowa pushed off from the wall and sat in the chair Quatre had pulled up. My eyes followed every single move he made, just in case he wanted to strangle me or something.

"I haven't forgiven you," Trowa snapped out suddenly.

I jumped. "Uh, I really hadn't even thought that," I said honestly.

"It's just..." Trowa broke eye contact and dropped his head between his knees. "These past few days... I haven't been able to get him to laugh like that." It seemed painful for Trowa to admit that.

"Uh, ah, that's probably because he was worried about me. So really I only repaid my debt, right?" I held up my hands in a sort of surrender. It was kind of creepy, seeing the unflappable Trowa bent like that.

"No. The truth is, the two of you have a sort of... understanding... between one another. One that I don't share in."

Uh-oh. Was Trowa _jealous_? Was that physically possible? "Well, we did kind of commiserate together," I tried.

He snorted. "Over what?"

"Unrequited love," I answered simply.

My answer made that head jerk back up. It was a relief to see that spine of his stiffen back up; it was even scarier than the glare. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we both loved someone we thought didn't love us back. We pined." I gave him a little nervous chuckle; the glare was back. "Uh, look, maybe you and Quatre should talk about, uh, something other than me? I mean, obviously there are a couple holes... in..." I shut up at the fierce look I got.

"And your relationship with Yuy," Trowa said steely, "has no holes in it?"

"Uh, my relationship with Heero is like Swiss cheese?" I said, and though I'd meant for it to simply be a statement of fact, it ended up lilting up at the end like a question. It was probably because of the scowl I was receiving.

But after I said it, Trowa's head ducked down and his shoulders started shaking and I got _really_ scared. Was the man _crying?_ I bit my lip. Should I call Quatre back? It wasn't like _I_ knew how to help this guy.

"You bastard," Trowa managed, and his voice was definitely messed up, "I'd managed to forget just... just what kind of person you were."

well how the fuck was I supposed to respond to that? "Uh, sorry?" I tried.

He snorted. "I had forgotten, over time... just how much you _feel_."

Huh?

I waved my arms a little crazily, until the pain in them almost made it impossible for me to concentrate. "Hey, hey, Trowa, uh, um... don't cry, okay?" Great. Now _I_ was the one feeling all panicked.

But when Trowa looked up to me in confusion, there was absolutely no trace of tears. "Cry?" he echoed, and his voice would have been priceless if I hadn't been trying to figure out what the hell the problem was if the bastard wasn't crying.

"Trowa!"

Quatre came running into the room then. Trowa was only half-standing when Quatre simply launched himself into his arms. You could see the acrobatic training come into play as Trowa kept them both on their feet. "Quatre, what is it? What's wrong?"

"It's Heero," Quatre sobbed, and the little blond clutched Trowa's shirt with fingers tight with tension.

The room got kind of fuzzy, like cottonballs had been stuck in my ears and glasses with the wrong prescription had been placed over my eyes. And things started to tilt.

"What?" Trowa demanded, but his voice faded in and out, and it was really soft. A saw him push Quatre away to look into his eyes, but I missed what he demanded. I only saw how his eyebrows were scrunched down worriedly.

"He's – Trowa, Heero's..."

I felt the shadowy grip of unconsciousness just before I slipped into its hold.

* * *

Muahaha. And for the sake of preserving Duo's manliness, we shall not say he fainted. He simply feel unconscious. Not like it isn't my fault he fell unconscious to begin with...


	11. Karma Police

Disclaimer: Gundam Wing is not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Eleven

Karma Police

* * *

"Duo!"

"What the hell is going on in here?"

"Wufei, Wufei, Duo has..."

"Has what?"

"I... I came to tell him... to say that Heero had... but before I even said it, he...!"

"That would be because you came here in tears! Love, if you'd wanted to send a positive message, you pretty much failed miserably."

"Oh no! What do I do? What do I do?"

"Hush; we've already called the doctor."

"Good God, and Yuy is demanding Maxwell something awful."

"...Yeah. I can hear him. You'd better tell him what happened."

"What? Are you crazy? He'll definitely get out of that damn bed then!"

"...Then Quatre should tell him. It's _his_ fault."

"Trowa!"

"Well it is."

"You'd just feed me to the lion like that?"

"I guess I could come with you. I'm used to dealing with lions, after all."

"Oh, bad pun, Barton."

"And while we're gone, _you_ can watch over Sleeping Beauty here."

"He's the safer of the two right now."

"Ah, but he won't be when he wakes up."

"...Sadist."

"Have fun. Let's go, little one."

"You're _both_ sadists."

* * *

As always, the very first thing I was aware of was the agonizing pain in my entire body. It was a normal enough thing, though it hurt like hell, and it was quickly eclipsed by the panic that froze my chest.

Heero was dead.

No. No, no. It couldn't be. He couldn't. He _couldn't_. No!

My eyes snapped open and I forced myself up.

I looked around. No one? There was no one in my room, no one waiting to stop me from doing something stupid. Did that mean... were they all in Heero's room?

No. No, no, no! He couldn't do this to me!

_Selfish_, something said. I snarled at it and swung my legs over the side of my bed, ignoring the agony of it. The railing almost defeated me for a moment, but I managed to get my legs up and over it and I pushed myself so that I could sit up without my arms supporting me.

"Yuy, stop! You're in _no_ condition to-"

"Where is he?!"

I think I choked. Or at least I made some sound that sounded like choking. It wasn't heard by those outside the room, and I managed to clap a hand over my mouth before I did something stupid.

Heero was...

...alive?

"Sleeping, dammit, and in bed. Where _you_ should be."

Wufei sounded both pissed and worried at the same time. I had yet to meet someone else who could manage that interesting little feat. Except maybe Heero, but they sounded too different to be...

Heero was out of his bed. And injured.

"Fucking hell," I breathed, and slipped off my own bed. My legs almost didn't support me, and I had to grab the offending railing to keep myself up.

Heero was alive. Heero was awake. Heero was being stupid.

"Yuy, dammit!"

"No! Not yet! I have to..."

I hurried then, pushing myself off the bed. Wufei made a distressed sound. "Winner, help me lift him!"

"No!" Heero shouted again.

Lift him?

I stumbled over to the doorframe and managed to peer out despite a wave of dizziness. Heero was indeed on his hands and knees. He looked bad, with a hospital gown making his lean frame seem almost fat and his face pale and sweating.

"Heero, you idiot," I breathed, and got an immediate reaction.

Heero's eyes snapped up, finding and latching onto me. Wufei's eyes snapped up, too, and when the Chinese man saw me leaning weakly against the doorjamb I thought he would combust.

"You're both fucking idiots!" the man screamed. He managed to help pull Heero to his feet, and Heero let him. Those cobalt eyes never left mine.

"Duo." Heero's voice was hardly even a breath, and he stepped forward, toward me and not back to his bed. Wufei huffed agitatedly but stepped forward as well, helping him. It took a small while, but finally Heero was within reach.

I didn't reach.

"You're alive," he said again. Then without warning Heero's fist smashed into my face.

"_Yuy!"_

I took it without a murmur, just leaned back into the jamb to keep myself from falling.

"You selfish bastard!" Heero shouted, and I made myself look into those cool blue eyes. "How could you do that to me? To _us_? You just wanted to take the easy way out! You didn't once think about us, about all of us who would be left behind!"

I said nothing in my defense.

"Yuy, this isn't the time or the place!" Wufei hissed, but Heero ignored him.

"What were you thinking?! How could you?! How could... do you have any idea...!"

Heero's rage seemed to have tired him out, because suddenly he was a dead weight in Wufei's arms. This time Wufei's huff was from pure exertion.

"Fucking hell," the Chinese man said. "Maxwell, get back in bed. If you aren't in there by the time I get back, _I'll_ fucking hit you."

I just watched impassively as Wufei lugged Heero back into his room. Quatre, nervously standing by the door to Heero's room – all the way down the hall – finally came up to help, now that it was apparently safe. I could very faintly hear Trowa speaking, saying that it wasn't yet safe to go to Heero. Ah. So he'd been acting as guard for the foolish nurses and doctors that had wanted to intervene with a soldier on a mission.

I was very, very silent as I returned to my bed.

It had been the first, the very first of time Heero had yelled at me. At least, since... since the war. And even then, Heero had never _yelled_. The man _never_ lost his cool like that. Never.

Heero was alive.

He was alive, and that was all that mattered. I deserved the man's scorn. His fury.

But right now... I needed to sleep, and to forget. At least for a few more hours.

* * *

"You should get therapy," the doctor told me gently.

I, of course, was not so polite. And it was just barely hitting the afternoon mark. Which made me even less polite, considering time schedules. "Fuck off."

"Mr. Maxwell, you just attempted suicide. Normally it would be required to get psychological therapy, but..."

But Quatre, bless his interfering soul, had somehow come through for me.

"No." I rearranged my feet, but kept my arms crossed. This man had been going at it practically since I'd woken up. Though it was a very, very nice distraction from Heero's... reaction... to seeing me again, it was also an extremely annoying one. I'd rather go to surgery for something.

"Mr. Maxwell," the man tried again.

I noted, not for the first time, how my 'friends' had made a not-so-discreet exit when this man had entered the room. At least the bastard had known enough to keep quiet about the bruise on my jaw.

My jaw that still hurt from smiling a bit too wide.

"No. Absolutely not. Not happening. No way in hell. There are a few less complimentary ways for me to say this; do you want me to start listing those, too?" I snapped him a fake smile while I glared at him.

"No, that would be unnecessary," the man sighed. "But I must tell you, Mr. Maxwell, that you have obviously suffered psychological damage. Therapy can help."

So could more poison. I very carefully swallowed _that_ witty piece of repartee back.

"Whatever you've gone through, Mr. Maxwell, perhaps talking about it can-"

"No." I had several witty responses to pretty much everything the guy said, but I doubted the man would leave if I said anything other than that one word.

Although it hadn't seemed to work that well so far.

The man sighed again and looked down at the clipboard in his hands like it could potentially hold an answer or two. Then he fixed his glasses and looked back up. "Are you absolutely certain that I can't convince you?"

"Yes."

The doctor tried to stare me down, but it obviously didn't work and after a few more seconds he simply sighed again and turned to leave. "All right. There isn't much more we can do for you here, so you will be released tomorrow morning if your condition remains the same. Do you have someone who can pick you up to take you home, and someone to care for you when you get there?"

"Yes." But a sudden thought entered my mind, followed by another one immediately after, and I found himself thinking furiously, so much so that I missed the man's last words before he departed.

Did Heero's house fully exist yet? I'd heard someone say at some point that insurance would fix Heero's house, but even though Une had said during the two months of recuperation that Heero's house was being rebuilt, I had no idea if it was inhabitable again yet.

Then there was the absolute first thing I had thought of, something that my more martyr mindset had brought to me before my logic had pointed out the previous little dilemma, and that question was: was that my home anymore?

I took a careful breath. It was a painful thought, but one that _had_ to be asked. Was it really somewhere I could return to? And I'd blatantly lied when the damn doctor had asked me if someone was there to care for me – obviously I didn't! Having someone who would want to take care of you – wouldn't that be a detriment to the whole suicide attempt thing?

There was _no way_ Heero would want me back in that house, was there? The man was absolutely livid. It would be stupid to assume I was still welcome in Heero's place.

But then who would listen to me if I said that? Would Wufei and Quatre and Trowa agree with me on that, or... what? Would they believe Heero would want to take care of me? Heero was a nice guy, but he wasn't a fucking saint. And he'd just punched a guy who was recovering from strychnine poisoning. It would be stupid to assume that the man would actually want me _living_ with him again, wouldn't it? But then where would I go? Where _could_ I go?

My first thought was to my Wing, but who would let me do that? I knew Wufei and Quatre would still be worried about me and would want me somewhere where they could take care of me. Would that mean that I would go live with one of them? Somehow the idea was a bit repulsive to me. Embarrassing, at best. There was no way I'd agree to that. No way, no way, no way.

So what did that leave me with? Where could I go? I certainly couldn't mooch off of Une anymore, and I certainly wasn't going to any of the above-mentioned places.

Wing. I would definitely, definitely go to Wing.

I felt calm as I outlined my ridiculous plan. I'd lose my laptop, but it was an acceptable loss. It had things on it for Heero, anyway, things I didn't want or need.

I made a mental alarm clock in my head and closed my eyes. In six hours, I would be sneaking off. And this time, Heero would be too fucking drugged up to notice I was slipping out again.

* * *

I woke up at exactly the right time: good-bye visiting hours, hello night staff. And I immediately wondered if I was being stupid again. Or, worse... selfish.

So I switched up my plans a little bit.

I slipped out of my bed – damn it hurt to do that – and hobbled my sorry ass over to the doorway. A quick peek showed me the coast was clear and I went gliding... okay, wobbling drunkenly... down the hall, almost to the very last door. The door was open, and it was easy to slip inside, especially dark as it was in the room – obviously to try to get Heero to sleep. I closed the door.

It didn't surprise me to see the tiny glint of eyes watching me when I looked up. "...Heero?"

"Duo." His voice was strong, but quiet. "What are you doing out of bed?"

I resisted the urge to tell him off for the hypocrisy of the statement. "I'm... supposed to be released in the morning."

Those eyes glittered. "So?"

Ouch. Maybe that was my answer right there. "I... I need to know something."

And suddenly a billion questions tipped themselves on my tongue. A trillion things I wanted to know.

"What?"

His voice was ice-cold, but I could hear the resignation in his voice. But he was wrong – for right now, I couldn't let myself care about that.

There were questions that were much, much more important.

"Am I... do... do you..." I sucked in a deep breath, sent my eyes to the floor, and just blurted it out. "Do you... still want me around?"

Heero hissed.

My heartbeat was a very powerful, very tangible thing just then, beating against my ribs so hard it hurt. Pound. Pound. It felt thick, two times bigger than normal.

A squeak of hinges warned me of Heero's movement, but by the time I'd looked up he was already up, IV drip lying lonely on the bed, and those glittering eyes were capturing mine again.

I took a step back as he came toward me, but then steeled myself for whatever he intended.

He grabbed my face, gently rubbed his thumb over the bruise he'd given me. "Always," he breathed. "No matter what... always."

And he pulled my head back and kissed me.

It was sweet and hungry, demanding and giving, all at once. I moaned and carefully wrapped my hands around his neck and only kept my own weight by reminding myself of what I'd done to him.

I didn't know I was crying again until Heero broke our kiss and leaned his forehead against mine, whispering stupid, clichéd little phrases to me.

This, I think, was where I seriously, seriously broke down.

I sunk to the floor, and Heero despite his injury followed me, and I was curled up in a little ball, leaning on my knees and hugging myself and shaking and crying like a child. I heard myself talking, heard Heero move from me for a moment, a frightening moment, until I heard the click of a lock and the movement of something heavy and then he was back, hugging me, encouraging me.

"I'm sorry, Heero, I'm so sorry..."

"No, love, it's all right; I had taken that chance-"

"I hurt you, I scarred you, I almost killed you I really tried to kill you-"

"It's all right, love, I swear-"

"Never again, I swear, never again-"

"Shh, it's all right, love-"

"I can't stop, I can't stop thinking about how-"

"Shh, I'm fine now."

"No, you're not, and it's all my fault!"

We just sat like that for a while. Eventually I became aware of other noises; the sounds of voices, mostly panicked. From outside the door?

I looked over to it, my eyes fucking coated in tears, and saw that the something heavy in front of the door was a freaking hospital bed. I gasped. "Heero! Your injury!" I looked over to it and saw a blotch of red.

"Oh God," I moaned, and just sunk even further. "Oh God, can't I do anything right?"

"Duo. This was my decision."

"Because _I_-"

"Enough, love, please."

And Heero's voice was so full of its own pain that I immediately dropped the subject. "Get back in bed," I whispered, and I stood so quickly it might have scared Heero. He looked up at me in shock. "Get back in bed," I repeated, my voice a bit more securely bolted against the sobs and hiccups that pushed against my throat. "I won't have you getting hurt any more than you already have."

Heero's eyes turned sad. "I understand," he murmured, and let me pull him up. Once he was in the bed, I moved to the door and tugged against the bed.

Fuck it was heavy.

"Duo," Heero called, and I looked back just in time to see him slip the IV back into his arm, "should you be doing that in your..." He frowned; I could fucking _hear_ it. "Wait... what _is_ your condition?"

"Pissed," I grumbled, and tugged again. My muscles, my poor, abused little muscles, sharply protested being used so heavily after their previous beating.

"Duo."

The warning voice. I ignored it. "Fucking hell, Heero, how'd you get this bitch to _move_?"

"I pushed it," he said easily. Well, the bastard was healthy enough to tease me, that was for sure. "What did..." He paused for a moment, and I realized that it was because he was having a hard time saying the words.

"What did I do to myself?" I said for him, my voice a bit softer. He didn't make any noise then; apparently hearing it out loud hurt. It was more humiliating for me, but I tried to imagine Heero trying to commit suicide and felt a shadow of the panic. Fuck. I'd been so selfish... "I poisoned myself."

Heero made the same choking noise I'd heard myself make earlier.

New voices joined the ones behind the door and I sighed with relief. Apparently the hapless staff had called in familiar cavalry. "Hey, guys!" I called out. Wufei cursed.

"What the fuck are you two _doing_?" he snapped out. "Neither of you are in any condition to be-"

"Whoa!" I interrupted, blushing beet red. "It's not like that. But Heero stupidly moved this damn bed over here and I can't fucking _move_ it. Are Quatre and Trowa with you?"

"Of course. Stand back."

The man sounded long-suffering.

"_Poisoned_ yourself?"

Heero's agonized words reminded me of the conversation I'd been in. "Uh, yeah." I couldn't look him in the eyes.

"What?" he breathed, and I knew exactly what he was asking.

"St... strychnine." I hardly said it, but Heero's sharp breath told me he'd heard nonetheless.

A horrible screeching met our ears, and both of us turned to watch the door being forcefully shoved open.

"You're both bastards!" Wufei shouted in suddenly. He probably shouldn't have been pushing, but thinking about it, he probably shouldn't have been carrying Heero, either. Guess it was his idea of physical therapy.

"Fucking assholes." Trowa's voice followed Wufei's, a bit calmer but still full of heat.

"His fault," I muttered. "I didn't move the fucking bed."

"No; you just took a midnight stroll," Quatre huffed.

I grinned; fuck it, my friends ruled. "Details."

Quatre huffed out a laugh.

I very carefully ignored the searing gaze that was blistering my back. No way, no how was I answering _that_.

So as soon as that door was open enough, I made a very hasty exit.


	12. But It's Better If You Do

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Twelve

But It's Better If You Do

* * *

The next morning was one of hospital monotony. I got checked out by the nurse and doctor and when they both finally finished poking and prodding me, I was allowed street clothes (more like clothes thrown in the trash – which would be where they'd be headed once I got back to Heero's) and was put in a wheelchair (oh fucking joy) and officially released.

I'd been surprised to find Quatre and Trowa waiting to be the official releasers.

"Wufei's being patched up as we speak," Quatre said with a wry little grin. "Apparently he overdid it last night."

I blushed. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"We're used to your stupidity," Trowa said, and I wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "It's just disconcerting to see it rubbing off on Heero, as well."

Oh har de har har.

So they wheeled me out of the building and got me into Quatre's ostentatious limo (why???) and drove us off into the dawn. Well... mid-morning smoggy traffic.

It was odd to see Heero's house. It was in perfect condition, though I don't know how; it hardly looked like anything had happened to it. Though I'd heard that a few neighbors had moved, and quite quickly, after the little psychotic battle. That was good – I seemed to remember a few children around. They shouldn't be near me.

I felt bad that Heero wouldn't be able to see them again, though.

Quatre had a spare key, and he was the one who let us in while Trowa pushed me forward. _That_ was nerve-wracking; I kept expecting him to shove me down the stairs or something, then say I slipped. But he was good, simply bringing me into the living room and stopping for a moment.

"Une did a good job here," he commented.

I thought so, too; the place really _did_ look like Heero's home, down even to the paint. A new watercolor was hanging, but it was very similar to the old one he'd had, and I knew it suited his tastes. Though the smell of wood chips and new paint was still fairly strong.

"Well, let's get Duo upstairs," Quatre said cheerily, and he was Trowa insisted on the humiliating fireman-carry up the steps and into my room. This room, too, had that same smell, only a bit stronger, and the bed was brand-new, along with practically everything else. The room had, after all, been torn to shreds.

Then Quatre began bustling around like some sort of head maid or something, directing Trowa around until they both made their way back down the stairs. I could only guess at what they were doing; I had strict orders to stay in bed.

I wondered how Heero was doing.

I hadn't exactly given him the chance to talk to me again after I told him about how I'd tried to kill myself. I hadn't really wanted to hear – or risk getting punched again. Even though I deserved it, I couldn't deny that a very, very large part of me was afraid of it. Not the physical pain, of course; who the fuck cared about that? But the emotional pain, the pain that sluiced through me whenever I thought about the hurt anger in Heero's eyes... yeah, I was afraid of that.

I didn't want to hear him yelling at me again. I didn't want to see the fury that was almost a match for the pain. I didn't want to think about what would have happened if I'd succeeded; the idea that Heero had managed to survive, only to find that I'd killed myself while he'd slept and recovered... no, I didn't want to be reminded of that.

Even if it was my fault. Even if I _deserved_ to be reminded. I... didn't want to be.

"Fucking hell, I've dug myself quite the fucking grave." And Heero would give me a Look for cursing so many times in one sentence.

The thought almost made me laugh, but I thought a little better of it, knowing how the laughter would probably turn out.

Like Heero was my grandmother or something.

I sighed. There were birds nearby; I could hear them from outside the window. Quatre was talking to someone, but it sounded like a phone call, and I didn't feel like trying to listen in. And what was with the clanging? Was it really necessary to make that much noise while cooking?

"It's probably just Trowa being a hardass," I muttered, and grinned despite myself. At least Trowa wasn't skulking up the stairs to kill me. It was a step up.

But my mind slipped back in more macabre thoughts, and with a shudder I closed my eyes and slept, knowing as I did so that my exhaustion wasn't quite high enough to evade the nightmares I would have.

* * *

My eyes snapped open. It was with effort that I swallowed back my scream. Images of blood covered my vision, and for a short second my body was so tense I had a painful flashback of my back arched into a bow and the pain of a face stretched into a grin-

"Oh, I didn't mean to surprise you."

My head turned to the door; Quatre stood there outlined by the light from the hallway; at some point one of them must have come up and turned off the light to my room. In his hands was a tray laden with what could only be dinner.

I pushed myself into a sitting position. "Hey, Qat," I said quietly. "You didn't have to bring that up here."

"I know." Quatre smiled for me as he came into the room. "I wanted to." He set the tray in my lap, and I immediately recognized the soup and juice as precautionary measures – doctor's orders. Apparently I'd tested my stomach to its limit.

Quatre checked out the room. My covers had been replaced with an almost exact copy, though mine had been fairly old and had still had a few colonies that no longer existed spattered over it. This one was a bit newer, and I could feel the absence of a few colonies, though I hadn't been hard-pressed to look for them all. I was already depressed enough, thanks.

The walls, though, were the same color, and though a new painting had been put up in here, too, it was also similar to its older counterpart.

"Uh, Duo." Quatre turned to me, pausing to look significantly at the tray of food. I obligingly picked up the spoon and took a bite. "Well... Trowa and I found your laptop in your hotel room."

Found. Like it hadn't been right freaking there for all to see. Still, I swallowed and nodded. "Yeah?"

"We haven't looked at it!" Quatre blurted. "I-I mean, it was open, and the document was sitting there, but as soon as I knew what it was I stopped reading..." Quatre blushed. "Um, I was wondering..."

"Quatre, I don't give a fuck if you read it or not," I snorted, taking another careful bite. My hand trembled a little, and I was ashamed to learn that it was difficult for me to feed myself.

"Th-That's not... what I was trying to ask." Then Quatre seemed to gather up his courage and just blurted it out. "I wanted to know if you'd let me show it to Heero?"

I was so surprised I froze in the middle of taking a bite, my mouth open like a fish. Carefully I placed the spoon back into the bowl and cleared my throat. "Qat." My eyes refused to look up from the odd pieces of meat sitting idly in the bowl. "I wrote those _for_ Heero. They're his. It was my intention all along to let him see them. To have him... own them." Like he owned me...?

"O-Oh." But then Quatre seemed to cheer up slightly, because he leaned into my field of vision. "Then may I present it to him?"

I shrugged. "Sure." I certainly didn't want to be there when he got them.

Quatre clapped his hands together and stood straight once more. "Great! Then after you finish eating, Trowa and I will head out for a little while... if you'll be all right?" he questioned, looking for all the world like he would drop everything on my say-so.

"Nah, I'll be fine. I'll just take another nap. You've got keys to this place, right?" I dipped back into the soup with a renewed vigor. If Quatre wanted to head out, I would hurry so that he could. Besides, it wasn't as if I'd be doing anything but brooding either way. It would be better if I brooded alone.

"Yes; we'll be able to get back in. You don't have to worry about getting up." I grimaced at that; out of the hospital and still bedridden? Wow, what a step in the right direction. Break out the party hats.

"All right" was all I said.

When I was finished, Quatre took the tray from me and promised a speedy return come tomorrow after visiting hours opened. I told him to take his time and that a sleeping guy wouldn't be very interesting, and that if Heero was awake, then he should just hang out with him. At Quatre's indecision, I softly said, "it'll help me, too."

And so Quatre and Trowa left with the reminder to call if I needed anything, that Heero had put a phone in my room way back when for a reason. And then they were finally fucking gone.

And the house was very, very quiet.

I was made painfully aware of how alone I was in the building. Heero was usually puttering around no matter what, and if not that, then clacking away on that damn laptop of his. I could swear the man was addicted to the damn thing. But there was no one else in the house. The creaking of floorboards and the sound of the air conditioner were the only noises I heard from within, and those obnoxious birds had gotten a little louder, heralding dawn.

"All right, so I want to wallow in self-pity," I grumbled. "That doesn't mean I _should_."

But what else was there to do?

* * *

Over the next few weeks, Quatre acted as unofficial babysitter while I recovered. He said nothing about Heero's reaction to seeing the poems, even when I'd sucked it up in the second week and asked. He'd just looked at me like he was about to cry. It made me want to ask if he'd read any of them with Heero, but I found I'd need to work up some more strength before I could manage to ask that one.

Heero was kept in the hospital as he recovered, though I was constantly informed that his recovery rate was fantastic and he was one hundred percent stable. I didn't have the strength – or the means – to get myself to the hospital on my own, and Quatre worriedly hovered enough as it was without me taking wheelchaired romps down the city.

Because of that, I hadn't seen Heero in twenty days.

Because of that, it was harder and harder for me to remember Heero as the tired-looking guy stumbling through the hospital (a bad enough image) with the image of him falling to the ground with a pool of blood at his feet, courtesy of my own drenched hands. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the nightmares and get back to sleep.

Even though I knew he was perfectly all right, that Quatre wouldn't lie to me about something that important – or at least Trowa wouldn't, thinking that it was my job to accept the pain that my mistakes gave me – and that Heero's calls from the hospital were definitely proof of some sort of well-being... I couldn't help it.

And his calls. The poor bastard was so fucking drugged he could hardly hear how tired I always was these days. Quatre was under strict orders not to tell him, and Trowa had even seemed to agree with my decision. Me in pain was fine, but not Heero.

So we always talked shortly about his progress and my progress and the weather and the news and Wufei's progress and all the meetings Quatre was blatantly skipping for me and then we'd fall into awkward silences until we started talking about Une and the news about the few stragglers from Caribol and carefully picked over the things that were really bothering us. I think the calls served to create an even bigger chasm between the two of us. He had, after all, pretended to be some sort of cyborg thing – still had no idea how he'd managed that – and I had tried to shoot him dead. And then kill myself.

We were so fucked up.

I heard the phone ring again and sighed. I knew it was Heero; he always fucking called at three in the afternoon every day. I considered, not the first time, simply not answering the phone, but I knew damn good and well that Heero would freak.

I cursed without much heat and picked it up, prepared for the exhausting dance to start again.

* * *

I think it said everything, that Heero refused to return to his house until he was fully recovered, over a month from when I'd shot him. By then I was able to move around on my own and most of my muscles had healed. I still had to do exercises every day, but they no longer hurt so bad I felt crippled hobbling back into the bed.

And I think it was pretty damn telling that I didn't know he was returning until I heard the door open from downstairs and his voice reached my ears.

"I'm fine, Chang, I've been able to walk on my own for a week now." Heero sounded both aggravated and amused, like he was going to hit Wufei but not hard enough to knock the poor guy out.

"A week? Well, now I feel better."

"You were only released six days ago," Heero grumbled, and I heard the door click closed. I'd also not been informed of Wufei's release, though I suppose it made sense that if Heero were out, Wufei would be, too.

"And whose fault is it that I reopened my wound?"

Heero just gave a tired chuckle, one that floated through the house. I'd thought I'd be happy to hear it, but it seemed to ring hollowly. I flinched at it and struggled up. I'd just finished my exercises and was tired, but it only made sense that I go and greet Heero, whether he wanted to see me or not. And it would give him the chance to kick me out.

Why? Why didn't he tell me he was coming home?

Unless... unless 'coming home' didn't include 'coming back to Duo.' And if that was the case... then why had he said 'no matter what'?

I walked slowly out to the hallway and grabbed the banister tightly. Though I could pretty much traverse the entire house now, I couldn't really move well after those damn exercises and sometimes I got dizzy, so walking down the stairs was usually something I avoided. But it was a little more humiliating to sit down and bump my way along with people here to actually see me doing it.

"Hey, Wufei, where's..." Heero's eyes caught me making my tedious way down the steps. He was sitting on the sofa, Wufei talking to him from around the coffee table. Heero looked better, I noticed immediately. But of course he did – it had been a month. His color was back, along with a lot of his muscle tone. Mine was coming back, too, but I couldn't freaking regenerate the way he could. He was leaning back into the sofa, something he never did, so I knew his side was hurting, but his eyes were clear of pain and focused wholly on me.

"Uh..." I was trapped in that gaze of his. His eyes were earnest, if not easy to read, and his lips were in an almost-frown. How exactly was I supposed to respond? "Welcome back," I mumbled, and dropped my eyes to the stairs. I very carefully went down to the landing and just stood there.

It was awkward, being in Heero's house and being right in front of Heero and not knowing whether I should pack my bags or not.

Wufei harrumphed. "Maxwell, just what the hell are you doing?"

"You're tired," Heero piped up. "Why?"

"Just did my exercises," I mumbled, still not looking up. I didn't answer Wufei's question at all. "How are you?"

God, what a banal question.

Wufei stomped over to me. "Maxwell, I find it odd that you even did your exercises when you knew Heero was being released."

My eyes snapped up. Oh my God. Thanks, Wufei. Way to rub the wound.

"...n't," I said quietly. My eyes slid straight back to the floor.

Wufei leaned down until his met my eyes. "What?"

"I didn't know," I whispered, nervously twitching from foot to foot. My eyes blipped over to Heero's without my consent. He looked a bit... stricken. Fuck. That's right – he could read lips.

"Yuy didn't tell you" Wufei seemed a bit surprised. Well, at least he wasn't in on it or anything.

I shrugged. "Nope." I tried on a smile; it still hurt to do it. Apparently my facial muscles had taken an interesting hit; the doctors were surprised to find them healing at all. "So you got released? I'm glad to hear it. And Heero, too." I turned that smile over to the couch, where Heero continued to stare at me rather blankly. "I'd heard you'd gotten better, but I wasn't sure quite how much. It's good to know you're all right."

And I screeched to a halt right there; my mind tried to remind me why Heero'd been injured, along with the reminder that Heero had neglected to mention just how far he'd progressed the last time he'd called – fucking yesterday.

Oh God. What was I still doing here?

"Wufei," Heero called. "I do believe you'd said you'd simply help me to the door."

Wufei turned to Heero as if he'd sprouted a new head. "What?"

"I'm telling you to leave."

Heero stood up from the bed and swerved around the coffee table. He really _could_ walk, and pretty well.

I turned away when my eyes started watering.

"Heero," Wufei argued – first name? - "you can't expect me to-"

"Now, Wufei. I need to talk to Duo."

Wufei hesitated, looking between the two of us. And then his eyes hardened.

"Wufei," I murmured. "...Please."

And he deflated. "Duo, call me if you need me." And after a warning look, he turned on his heel and carefully left, closing the door solidly behind him... leaving me alone with Heero Yuy.


	13. When The Day Met The Night

Disclaimer: It's not mine! STFU!

* * *

Sub Rosa

Chapter Thirteen

When The Day Met The Night

* * *

"Duo, sit down before you fall down."

Heero was puttering around again, as if he'd been here this whole time, as if this house was still the exact same as when he'd first bought it and placed his new possessions inside. He went into the kitchen and, from the sounds of it, put water on to boil. I could only guess that he was making tea.

I almost laughed. Tea. How... normal.

I just plopped myself on the landing and rubbed at my chest. My heart was heavy and thick, almost too painful. I felt like gasping. It would be over soon, I promised myself. I just had to get through this nightmare, and then it would be over.

Oh God. I didn't want it to be over.

Shit.

By the time Heero returned, I'd managed to take those bits of water in my eyes and shove them away. He set the tray down and looked at me oddly. "Duo, when I said sit down, I didn't mean _there_."

I couldn't bear to look up at him.

He sighed. "Duo... I didn't... I thought Quatre was keeping you informed... that you already knew I'd be coming back. And I thought Wufei definitely would have told you. You'd sounded... happier... yesterday. On the phone."

Happier? Ah. He'd woken me from another nightmare, and I'd gone into overdrive. I'd thought he'd seen through it – he wasn't being drugged anymore, was he? So how hadn't he-

A loud thump echoed through the room, and I jumped. When I looked up, I saw Heero's fist against the wall. I lurched to my feet and swayed drunkenly. "Heero – careful – your side-"

"Dammit!" His face was staring at the floor, so much so that I couldn't see his eyes through his bangs. "You were hiding again, weren't you? I'd thought so, at first, but then you'd said that you'd seen some ancient animation about a man turned to a llama and I'd thought..."

Ah. Yeah. Something about an Emperor. Even with my mood as down as it'd been lately, I'd still chuckled once or twice.

So Heero _had_ caught it?

"I should have known," he said bitterly, "that you'd been faking it... again..."

I managed to make my way to stand in front of him, but my hands only fluttered uselessly in the air, not sure whether to touch. "Heero, your injury-"

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Wufei made them give me a few painkillers before he brought me back. I'm healed for the most part; I only have to do a few exercises each day, same as you. Besides," he added huffily, "I want... to talk to you."

Ow. My chest was heavy again.

"Right." I grinned at him; _damn_ but that hurt. I took the chair, a piece that sat against the far wall in the room. "Um, how _is_ your progress? I mean, Quatre'd told me that you were getting better, that you'd started walking a few days ago..." I took a cup and poured the tea, then poured one for Heero, too, He carefully sat down and stared at his own cup rather blankly.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, and took a sip.

I couldn't believe it. He'd made me laugh. I... laughed. "Isn't that my line?" I asked, and forced myself to stop. I was hurting my stomach anyway.

Heero gave me a hard look. "Usually," he acceded. "But the wound's healed, although tender, and even though it gives stabs of pain if I, say, try to twist around to look behind me, otherwise I'm all right."

I looked down at my cup of tea and swished the yellow-green liquid around. Green tea again. The guy loved it.

"Here." Heero pushed the tray toward me, and this time I noticed the honey on it. I took it silently and squeezed an exorbitant amount into the tea. Heero handed me a spoon to mix it with without saying a word.

I almost cried.

It was silent for a time, and all I could do was sip and be thankful that I didn't have to drink the tea plain. Heero didn't drink at all, but just sat there staring gloomily into space.

Finally my cup was empty and I had absolutely nothing left to do to distract myself.

"Dammit." Heero clinked the cup down onto the tray so hard the tea sloshed over the brim. I jumped again. "Dammit," he repeated. "It shouldn't be like this. This isn't... this isn't how I wanted this."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"I wanted...!" He turned those beautiful eyes to me, letting his passion and anger shoot forward. I froze. Alive. They were... "I wanted this to be more...!" He made a coarse growl of frustration and raked a hand through his hair.

Those eyes were alive.

"Heero..." I flicked my gaze at the walls. "Could I... just for one second... could I... have a... selfish moment?"

"Selfish moment?" he repeated. I carefully kept my eyes turned from him.

"If you don't want to then-"

"No." I flinched. "I mean," he amended quickly, "no, I don't mind."

I carefully breathed out and pushed myself up from the chair. I couldn't tell you where my cup went. I think he probably thought I was insane, looking at the stairwell and making my pathetic way over to him. I knelt before him and put my hands on his knees. "Just tell me when to stop, and I swear I will. Immediately," I breathed, looking over his shoulder.

And with a sob I threw my arms around his waist and buried my face in his lap.

I think he was so surprised at first he couldn't move even if he knew what to do. And then I think it took so long to decide what to do that I beat him to the punch when I finally managed to get my vocal cords to work.

"I'm sorry I know this is selfish but I just couldn't think you were okay when I couldn't see you and if you want me to leave I will I swear I won't force you to keep me here I'm so sorry I hurt you I didn't know but I should have but I _didn't_ or else I never would have-"

"Hush, love, please, at least give me a moment to speak." His hands came finally to rest on my shoulders.

"Tell me if I'm hurting you," I ordered, carefully keeping my grip under control even though I wanted to squeeze as hard as I could, to hold him tight and reassure myself as to his existence.

"You aren't. I promise."

"I'm sorry," I said again, just for good measure. Then once more, "I'm sorry."

"Please, enough of this. I can't stand to see you like this, love."

Love. I think that word was more of a knife than a balm, even more painful to hear considering all I'd done. "And then I tried to be selfish again and..." God I couldn't even say it. "And..."

His fingers clenched tightly to my shoulders. "Please, Duo. I can't... talk about this right now."

Too painful for him. I heard it in his voice; the agony thinking about my suicide attempt brought to him. The horror and anguish of it.

"I'm sorry."

"Please," he whispered. "Please. Enough."

It reminded me of the night in his hospital room, of how he'd pleaded with me then, too. At least beneath my cheek I could feel his thigh muscles moving slightly, and beneath my arms, his body was warm. Alive. Despite everything, he was alive. I had to remind myself that nothing, absolutely nothing, else mattered but that.

"It's too late, isn't it?" I asked, forcing myself to calm down. I made to move, but Heero made a sound of protest and clutched at my shoulders, so I stayed where I was. "It's too late for us."

"No," Heero said viciously. "I'll fix the mistakes I caused. I swear it to you, Duo; I'll make up for this... somehow. So please... don't give up?"

It seemed so wrong to have Heero pleading with me so much. "Mistakes _you_ caused?" I parroted, confused.

"Yes." His fingers began playing idly with my braid. "I won't let my mistake take you from me."

"Wait." I pushed myself up, ignoring the fingers that almost clutched at my hair. "What do you mean, 'your mistakes'? What mistakes? I mean... I know you went undercover without... without telling anyone, but I should've been able to tell..." Heero's face just got sadder and sadder the more I talked, so I just shut up.

He reached out and pushed a bang from my face. "I'd like to think I'm a good enough actor to not be caught."

Was... that a joke? But Heero wasn't laughing. He wasn't even smiling. "I was cocky. I thought I could keep dodging you, that I could stay one step ahead of you. But I forgot just how..." He chuckled. "Just how innovative you could be. I forgot that you were a quick learner, and I kept giving you another chance."

"You kept letting me live," I realized, and my hands clenched into fists on his thighs. "Oh God..."

"I almost broke," he admitted quietly, "when you told me you'd always be waiting." My vision was watery with tears, but it didn't stop me from seeing the echoing tears in Heero's eyes. "That you would wait for me beyond death."

He slid from the couch and positioned himself in front of me; the space was tight in front of the coffee table, but Heero didn't seem to care, and the pain of the edge in my back didn't matter when Heero pulled me into a hug. "I hurt you. I made you think you needed to kill me. But I'd been afraid that if I told you, you wouldn't try hard enough, and I needed to get close to Frederick to be able to take him down. And then it all went to hell and... and then I woke up and heard Wufei shouting that you _wouldn't_ wait, that you were..." He took a shuddering breath, an almost wet one, and I knew he was crying. Oh God. "What would I have done?" he asked, his voice broken. "What would I have done if they'd been too late?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered. It was the best I could do. Although... an explanation was probably in order. "I'm not trying to excuse it, but... it... when I found out, I... I panicked. I hadn't been able to aim perfectly in the rush, but I hadn't tried to hold back, either... I thought..." Oh God, now _I_ was the one making the wet, crying sounds. Crying sucks.

"Quatre told me," Heero said, "when he brought... your computer to me."

Ah. Shit. That.

"You..." And here he took a ragged breath. "You wrote that for me? Just... before...?"

I nodded against his shoulder, and he just fucking broke down.

All I could do was hold him. He was clutching at my back in places that hadn't healed yet, but I would never tell him that, not when he was obviously so upset as to not notice himself. And his shoulders were shaking so bad I thought it would never stop. It wasn't fair to cry while Heero did; my tears wouldn't help, and they were an insult to his. Instead I told him what he needed to hear.

"I'm alive. I'm all right. It didn't happen; I didn't die. I survived. Listen. Listen; you can hear it. My heartbeat. You can hear it, right?" And Heero leaned down until his ear was pressed to my chest; he took an unsteady breath. "That's it. Just listen. I'm fine now, and I'm perfectly healthy." Slight lie, but Heero's shoulders were stilling, so I didn't care. "And I swear, I swear I'll never try anything like that again."

"You better not," he mumbled. When I tried to look at him, he carefully clenched himself close to me, refusing to let me see his face. I sighed.

"I won't. It's too selfish."

Heero's fingers bit into my shoulders. "I must apologize... for what I said. In the hospital."

"Why?" I chuckled for him. "It was true."

"Still... the delivery could've been better."

"Ah, but there was a one hundred percent chance of me paying attention if you socked me. Pretty effective." I pointed out, lifting a hand from his back to lift up my first finger to the ceiling.

"Duo, don't brush this off. Quatre... told me."

"Told you?" I repeated, looking down at the crown of his head. His words were a little muffled; he'd buried his face into my chest somewhere in there. It was so strange, seeing Heero so... so fucking vulnerable. I'd never seen it before. It made me hurt. It made me feel like killing someone. It made me feel... possessive, and protective. Like I'd give my life to protect him without a second thought. I mean, I'd always felt that way, but somehow... somehow, not like this... I just knew that nothing, nothing was as precious as keeping this man's smile safe.

"He told me that you... he told me what happened after I fell."

I frowned, my mind being forcefully pulled into the present. "You mean how I went after that leader guy?" I asked.

But Heero shook his head. His hair tickled my nose. "No. Not that. He told me about how you acted when... after you shot me."

I flinched violently.

Heero grabbed my shoulders, kept me from pulling away from him. "I'm sorry."

"It's the truth," I repeated. Still, it felt like I'd just been tasered. "W-Well," I tried, pulling myself together with sheer willpower, "how did you expect me to react? I'd just..." I petered out, unable to say it.

"I know. I'd thought I'd be able to evade you, but then you were suddenly _there_. I couldn't dodge in time... I'd known it before I'd tried. The only thing I could do was stop the blow from being fatal."

I flinched again. That close? It'd been that close? "I'm sorry," I whispered. "Thank God. Thank God you managed to..."

"I thought you were an atheist?" Heero joked, but I was past being able to laugh.

"I'll thank every deity ever named," I said seriously. I think my words sobered him, too, because he just sort of... limped into my arms. It was the strangest feeling, having _Heero Yuy_ giving all the control over to me.

"Duo, I... made a huge mistake, didn't I?" he asked after a few minutes of silence.

I knew what he was talking about this time – the fact that he'd gone undercover without anyone knowing. I didn't say anything; it may have been a tactical mistake, but I could see where he'd been coming from. He just... could have trusted my acting abilities a little more.

"Do you _want_ to continue... us?" he asked.

He very carefully _didn't_ hold tight to me this time; that more than anything made it plain that this was _his_ taboo question. _His_ greatest fear.

So I held him carefully, mindful of his injury, and answered as honestly as possible.

"If we didn't continue, Heero, I _would_ try it again. Or at least... when I went back to the stars, I wouldn't put all my effort into my job."

It was _his_ turn to flinch violently.

"I can't," I said simply. "I can't. I guess maybe I'm just a stupid fucking romantic, but I can't go back to being without you. I tried, during those... during those months, to try to find a way. But I couldn't. All I wanted was to kill Caribol's people and then – well, you know."

"Why?" he demanded. "Why can't you just keep living?"

"I just can't." My answer probably pissed him off, but it was the truth. "I guess that means you can just never die, Heero."

It made his breath shudder, hearing that. "That's... hard, considering my job."

"It shouldn't be. Just don't go up against another Gundam pilot."

He laughed a little too loud. "We'll fix this. We _will_."

I leaned my head onto his shoulder, breathed in his scent. Alive. That smell was still there, and beneath my hands his skin practically burned, reminding me that there was life. If the two of us still lived, then that meant that we could work through any problem, right?

I took a deep breath, trying to firm those words in my mind. "Sure we will."

* * *

A/N: And that would be the end of the Panic at the Disco Saga. Huzzah! *sigh* But it's not like Sub Rosa's done. Gods, when I'd said this would be a long series, I didn't think it would turn into a freaking epic. Well, hope you enjoyed this Saga. What could possibly happen next???


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